


Roxanne

by grand_budapest_queen



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexuality, Dark, Depression, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grand_budapest_queen/pseuds/grand_budapest_queen
Summary: /Hot Space era/Struggling to adapt to the Munich-life, Brian finds himself sinking deeper and deeper into a spiral of rage-fuelled studio fights, substance-abuse, and depression. Is it only a desire to taste the forbidden fruit that drives him back into Freddie´s arms each night or is there more to it than destructive, all-consuming lust?Inspired by "Roxanne" by the Police
Relationships: Brian May & Chrissie Mullen, Brian May/Freddie Mercury, Freddie Mercury/Paul Prenter
Comments: 87
Kudos: 78





	1. You Don´t Care If It´s Wrong Or If It´s Right

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my darlings,  
> I hope you are all doing well. Sadly, I wasn´t able to participate in Maycury week due to work and other stressful things going on my life but here I am with a fresh Maycury story. This time, I tried to explore the darker parts of Brian and Freddie´s friendship and the time the band spent in Munich to record "Hot Space". I hope you enjoy!

Brian fucking hates Munich and he´s known from the start. 

Never before had he considered himself to be a pessimist, someone who´d judge a book by its cover, someone who takes a bitter kind of joy in wallowing in his first impression of a place. 

The thing is, even after a week, a month, three months, he fucking hates Munich. 

Brian hates the weather, the dreariness of the rainy November days dragging on and on, the sky a constant wall of grey clouds, the trace of a golden shimmer of autumn sun never to be seen. 

Brian hates the way the people in shops and restaurants frown at him when he doesn´t understand their heavy Bavarian accent, hates the way they gape at them, at him and especially at Freddie. They are rude, they are loud, they listen to strange music and eat dumplings and Sauerkraut, which gives him horrible heartburn. No vegetarian options of course, Bavarians love their pork and beef with gravy. 

He hates the way Freddie feels so at home, while the rest of them feel like they´ve never been farther from London. Munich is his playground, Munich is fun, pretty German boys in Lederhosen and burly moustaches Bavarian men in checkered shirts waiting for him to pick them like ripe apples in the fall. Munich is different, unique, secretive, exciting. 

Brian hates the way Munich changes them, changes Queen. He hates how their usual bickering turns into full blown fights, shouting at each other, slamming doors, not talking for days. 

“No, I´m done with all those hymns, I want funk, disco, a beat people can boogie to!”, Freddie proclaims when Roger suggests an idea for a new song and scrunches up his nose at the possibility of using synthesisers or even a drum machine. 

“But that´s not Queen! That´s not our kind of music!”, the drummer shouts back at the singer and then they fight until Freddie´s so angry that he smashes his bottle of beer against the wall and Roger just leaves in silent fury. 

“I´m going get out of here before I´ll slap you, you daft wanker!”

And that´s that for the day. 

Brian never used to participate much in these conflicts, but that has also changed. Because even though they used to have different opinions on songs in the past there had always been an equal foundation, a sort of sacred ground they didn’t touch. 

In the past, Freddie had been on his side, a fair judge, striving for perfection of course, but with a soft spot for always making room for Brian´s ideas and elaborate guitar solos nonetheless. 

Now, he seems to only go after what he wants, what seemed hip, cool and exciting to him. And god, Freddie must have been so horrible bored with what they had been doing for the past decade or so, because he wants to change every god damn thing. 

Brin feels like he´s not even a part of this band anymore, an automaton, who plays the parts that his friends want him to play, mindlessly strumming away at his guitar. 

The album kills his creativity and while Roger has “Action This Day” and “Calling All Girls” and Freddie and John jump right into working on their favourite funky piece “Cool Cat” he just sits there, listening to his friends discuss their ideas, occasionally nodding his head to make it seem like he is at least somewhat present. 

And Brian hates it. 

There´s so much anger inside of him, so much aggression, potent and acidic, burning in his stomach, tightening his airways, drumming against his temples as a horrible headache when he clenches his jaw in frustration. 

Everything suddenly is too much, people pulling at him from every direction. 

There´s the band, the new album, there´s Roger wanting his loyalty and Deaky finally speaking up, Freddie stumbling through the last high of his nightly escapades while screaming at them and Paul Prenter whispering filthy lies into his ears. 

And then there´s life at home, Chrissie and the children, little Louisa barely being six months old and Brian missing them terribly, feeling horribly guilty to be leaving them alone in London.

And then there´s his mind, the way Brian knows, just knows when the darkness is creeping back in and there´s nothing he can do, nothing he can think of to escape it, to get away from it. It´s thick and black, making his limbs heavy and his thoughts become slower. And Brian´s scared, even though he tells no one about it, keeps it to himself. There´s a word for it. Depression. But Brian hates that word as well. 

There´s only one thing that can make his anger vanish like a thunderstorm on a hot day, the rain hanging heavily in the air before it hits the pavement with its first fat drops. 

It´s simple.

It´s wrong. 

It´s wretched and filthy and utterly depraved. 

But it´s exactly what Brian needs after a long frustrating day at the studio, a sleepless night, another fight on the phone with Chrissie, about when they will finally be done with this album god damn it please come home, Brian. 

“Oh fuck…”, Freddie swears, when Brian pushes into him deeper, hands gripping tightly onto his slim hips while he pounds into him like a madman, his laboured breathing and hammering heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

Freddie´s tight, wet heat engulfs his cock like a welcoming friend, a comforting hug, snug and perfect and oh so wonderfully forbidden. 

They´re in his hotel room, the sky outside the window coloured red and orange with the dying light of the day, the sun setting over the city. 

For a second, Brian allows himself the luxury of admiring the delicate curve of Freddie´s bottom and back in front of him. He´s no a boy anymore, grown out of the tacky silver jewellery, nail polish and long messy hair but under the dark peach fuzz covering his lower back and the taut muscles on his arms, his strong shoulders and his broad chest, he´s still the same. 

A dreamer, a melancholic, beautiful, elven-like creative striving for perfection, craving the darkness just as much as the light, ever-changing and still always the same. 

“Yes Brian, harder…”, Freddie moans, when Brian´s hands slide up from his hips towards his shoulder blades, pushing him further down, almost bending him in half.

He likes it, the sudden imbalance of power, the way Brian uses him, uses his body, utilises sex to express these emotions of frustration, of pain, of anger inside of him. 

Because Freddie sees them without Brian saying a single word. He just knows. It´s always been like that between them. 

“Fuck yes…just like that, that´s so good…”, the singer groans. His thighs are shaking, his back arches into each of Brian´s powerful thrusts. 

When had they become like this? 

Had it been Munich, the city engulfing them in a fog of darkness, leading them astray from the shining path that had once been their wonderful friendship?

Or had it, this, this depravity, this desire, hunger really…had it always been inside of them? A longing glance on stage, thousands eyes on them and nobody noticing, not even their best friends. A lingering touch, a hand on his back, on his thigh, on his arse when they danced to the music. 

They had started fucking about four weeks ago but Brian was almost certain that whatever was going on between Freddie and him had been going on for much, much longer. 

It makes his nerve endings tingle and he grabs a handful of the thick, wavy hair at the back of the Persian´s head. Freddie keens, moans filthily. Oh yes, he loves pain. 

“Yes…fuck…”, he groans and then Brian leans forward, his slim chest now flush against the singer´s back and shags him with quick, shallow thrusts because he´s close and he needs to fucking come. 

Freddie´s cheek feels feverishly hot against Brian´s and his hair is in the way, probably tickling Freddie, but the other man doesn´t care. 

He´s in a trance, intoxicated by Brian´s roughness, by the way he´s able to let go, to just take it, take it like a man so hungry, so desperate for it. 

The singer turns his head, a small movement to the left, a clumsy, open-mouthed kiss pressed to Brian´s lips. They rarely ever do this, the kissing, the cuddling, all the lovey-dovey stuff they used to do when they had been younger and those innocent touches had still been platonic. 

Freddie loves it, feeds on it, craves it. Maybe that´s why Brian only gives it to him in very small doses. To stay in charge, the dealer of another drug the singer´s addicted to. 

Breaking the kiss, Brian attaches his lips to Freddie´s neck while his hand reaches between the singer´s thigs to find his throbbing erection, bouncing with each of his thrusts, leaking into Brian´s hand when he starts jerking the other man off. 

Freddie practically sobs, almost seems thankful for the relief Brian is offering to him. He sucks a purpling bruise onto the singer´s neck, one that he knows will later peek out of the collar of his shirt to remind Brian of this, a bitter victory to him, when he knows Freddie´s out in the clubs, amusing himself with other men. 

The thought of the Persian with someone else, with Prenter, drives Brian wild with pain and hurt and feeling his orgasm approaching at the same time creates an intoxicating burning mixture inside of his chest, making it tight, making it hard to breathe. 

He manages two, three, four more deep thrusts, before hot, white pleasure makes his nerve-endings tingle and he moans brokenly, while he climaxes. 

Freddie shudders under him and through the fog of his own pleasure, Brian feels him spilling onto his hand, dick twitching, body clenching around Brian´s cock, teasing a final wave of pleasure from him.  
It´s only now that Brian releases the tight hold he had had on the singer´s narrow waist, the way his fingers had been digging into the Persian´s soft skin, nails biting into it, leaving small, telling marks on it. 

Brian feels light-headed and slightly dizzy as he pulls out of the man in front of him, coaxing one last moan from the Persian. He clumsily rolls the condom off of his softening cock, carelessly tossing it into the direction of the bin under the desk by the window. 

With a loud sigh, he collapses next to the other man onto the bed, naked and sweaty, slowly catching his breath.

“Sorry…”, he slurs, not really knowing what he´s apologizing for while feeling extremely guilty at the same time. 

Freddie is still on his front, right where he sank down onto the sheets after Brian had let go of his hips, eyes closed and still panting. 

“It´s okay…s´okay…I´m…I´m okay…”, he murmurs, lashes fluttering, brows slightly furrowed. He seems withdrawn, caught up inside of his own head, the sensation of the aftershocks and Brian fears that he had been too rough, too demanding. 

“You sure?”, he asks carefully and can´t help but reach out to his friend, placing a gentle hand on his upper arm, a grounding touch, a caress too tender, too sentimental.

They usually don´t this, don´t pay much attention to the aftermath of their violent desires. No kissing. No cuddling. None of this. 

The touch of Brian´s hand on Freddie´s lean upper arm is a luxury, an indulgence that could put both of them in danger, a step to close, a second of weakness. 

Because when Freddie opens his eyes, those beautiful brown orbs of warmth and wild energy, he almost looks hurt, vulnerable even under Brian´s touch. 

Brian feels a well-known kind of yearning bubble up inside of his chest, an urge to pull his friend closer, to hold him in his arms, pull the covers over their naked bodies, a cocoon of warmth, of safety, a space where there would only be them. 

Because that´s what he wants, wants it so much it hurts. 

But he knowns it won´t happen, ever. Because the denying, the pain of being close while staying away is part of their unspoken deal, part of the game they´re playing. 

They fuck. That´s it. Freddie knows. Brian knows. And still he wants, still he hopes, dreams. And he knows that Freddie does to. 

There´s kindness inside of the singer´s eyes when he looks at Brian and smiles one of his carefree, sweet smiles, one that makes him look much younger, his hair tossled, his cheeks still flushed. 

“Course I´m sure, darling.”, he softly, eyes shining warmly while he tries to smile all of Brian´s worries away. 

Brian slowly pulls away his hand, the touch suddenly feeling awkward. How odd, he thinks. A few years ago, he had thought it the most intimate thing to sleep with someone. But here he is, fucking his best friend and still feeling closest to him not when they have sex, but when their gazes lock, when their hands are touching. 

Maybe it´s because Freddie´s eyes and the way they unmask all his pretence have always been Brian´s weakness. 

Freddie grins at him and crossed his arms behind his back, stretches like a lazy cat. 

“You needed that, didn´t you?”, he laughs, “My legs are jelly, oh god…”

Brian´s eyes linger on the other man´s naked body in front of him while Freddie stretches his legs, unashamedly naked in front of Brian, bronze skin glistening with sweat. 

How shy Freddie used to be about his body, about his face, his voice, his teeth, his everything really. But that was years ago. Now he parades around, his nakedness no longer a privilege to be enjoyed by the people close to him. 

He´s here for everyone to see, tiny shorts and bare chest, strong naked legs and broad shoulders. 

But then, Brian´s thinks there´s a different kind of nakedness, a sort of absence of pretence, of any kind of façade, a closeness of the soul and he can feel it when their gazes lock and their hands are touching, when Freddie smiles at him, sweetly, tiredly and all Brian wants is to take him in his arms and pull him against his chest for Freddie to press his face into the crook of his neck, like a small animal searching for cover in a rainstorm. 

“Are you feeling a bit better?”, Freddie asks him and then reaches down from the bed, where his discarded jeans are located, pulling a pack of fags and a lighter from one of the pockets. 

“Yeah…”, Brian murmurs and sits up, while he watches Freddie smoke. 

He suddenly feels ashamed. Because he´s naked and even the warm, orange light of the setting sun can´t hide the fact that his limbs are still long and gangly, his knees and elbows bony like a boy´s. He´s 34 now, but sometimes he still feels as shy, as ugly as ten, twenty years ago even. 

And then, there´s the guilt he feels about what had just happened, what had led him to behave this way. 

Every day when they fight and bicker, when they forget about the music and go at each other words hurtful words and snarky comments, he tells himself that it´s not going to happen tonight, that he´s strong enough, that he doesn´t need this. 

He´s using Freddie, abusing Freddie, he tells himself to keep the urges at bay. He has a wife. He has two beautiful children. He needs to stop this, to get a grip god damn it!

But then, when he´s alone in his room, when he´s had a bit too drink to try and cool down, when he can still hear the blood rushing in his veins, when he´s still feeling unhinged, angry, frustrated, there´s only one thing that he craves. 

Freddie. 

Freddie and the way he lets Brian push him down onto the bed, against the wall, down on a table even, the way he takes it, takes his cock, allows Brian to unload all of his anger, his pain, his darkness in a few minutes of frantic fucking. 

He´s kind like that, sweet like that and never asks Brian why, never wants anything in return. 

And it makes Brian feel even worse for taking it so greedily, for even asking. 

It has been just the same tonight, a game they had started playing some four weeks ago, a drunken night leading to a hard, fast fuck in Brian´s hotel room. 

Back then, it had made Brian realise how long this had been coming for them, how many years they had danced around each other, so close to the brink of giving in that a bit too much to drink and a moment alone in the empty hotel escalator had been enough to make them give into temptation. 

Freddie had moaned into his mouth brokenly, when Brian had pushed him against the cool glass of the mirror and kissed him breathless, had willingly let Brian into his bed on that night and on many more. 

They had never talked about it, had never dared to. It had just kept on happening, these violent sudden outbursts of lust, these manic moments of passion, of frustration.

“Fucked that funk in your head right out. Told you it´d help, darling.”, Freddie tells him with a grin and then takes another drag from his cigarette. He looks like sin when he´s smoking like that, stretched out on the bed and naked. 

For a second, Brian indulges in the fantasy of taking the cigarette from his hand, putting it out in one of stale water glasses on his night stand to pin Freddie´s slender wrists to the mattress and make slow, tender love to him, keeping him here all night, in his hotel room. 

Instead, he just watches the singer smoke.

“Oh lord…”, Freddie whispered and arches his back, stretching once again. “Sitting down will be a bit uncomfortable come tomorrow, I suppose.”, he chuckles, as if it´s a little joke he tells himself to mask the fact that Brian´s roughness had left him in serious discomfort. 

“What are up to tonight?”, Brian asks to fill the silence that is making him so uncomfortable and doesn´t seem to bother the singer at all with words. 

“Not sure yet…”, Freddie murmurs, finishing his cigarette. He´s not looking at Brian while speaking, his gaze slightly unfocused, hidden away in his thoughts, already thinking of something else, the next thrill, the next adventure to be found in a bar or a club. 

“You gonna go out?”, Brian asks, even thought he knows he shouldn´t. 

“Yeah…”, Freddie replies lazily and then, while grabbing his clothes from the hotel carpet, adds: “Paul´s picking me up in about an hour…”

He hates that name, they all do. Paul Prenter, Freddie´s new best friend, his gay friend, the one who knows where the fun is at, where there´s a good time to bed had, where the pills and the booze and the coke and the handsome men are. 

Usually, Brian´s able to mask his dislike for Prenter much better than Roger, even John. Nonetheless, he hates the Irishman with all he has. 

He watches Freddie get up and get dressed, feeling even more uncomfortable in his naked state and luckily spotting his discarded dressing gown on one of the armchairs near the window.  
Brian tries to look unrushed as he gets up to grab it, wrapping it around his skinny, sweaty form like an armour. 

“What about you? Any plans for tonight?”, Freddie asks him while pulling up his tight jeans. 

“Yeah…I was actually going to go for a drink with Rog and Deaks…Call Chrissie later on…you know, the stuff we usually do…”, Brian tells him even though he now regrets to agreeing to Roger´s proposal of a beer at the hotel bar. 

It´s hard for Brian to even look his friends in the eyes after he´s been with Freddie like this. Because he fears that they might find out and sometimes, when he´s feeling paranoid and anxious, he´s almost certain that they know. 

Maybe they don´t even care. Don´t care anymore. This is what Munich has done to them. 

“Sounds good.”, he murmurs, as the singer´s put on his beloved adidas, untangling the shoelaces. 

Freddie´s already grabbing his leather jacket when Brian feels the need to keep him from leaving just yet. 

“Fred…” 

The singer turns around to him, a slight frown on his face. 

“Studio´s at ten tomorrow. Don´t be late again.”

Freddie rolls his eyes at him like a stroppy teenager. He hates it when Brian tells him off for being late, always has. 

“It was only ten minutes today, darling. Don´t be such a…teacher. I´m not your naughty little tutoring student from back in the day, you know…”, there´s a teasing glimmer inside of his dark eyes, a cheeky tone to his voice but Brian´s not in the mood for it. 

Like many times before, he feels like his friend is not taking him seriously. 

“It was half an hour, Freddie. And it´s putting us behind. You know, it´s simple mathematics really, half an hour to an hour each day and within a week, we´ve almost missed a whole day of work.”, he states and Freddie sighs in frustration. 

“Oh god, you´re horrid, Brian. Don´t be such a bore. You´re all so terrible boring since you´ve got families and houses and wives and so on. Really, it´s terrible.”, he turns over to the large mirror next to the bed, checking his reflection, running a hand over his hair to fix it. 

He´s started to wear his fringe in a way that´s a little too neat, a little too rigid. Roger´s laughed at him when he had first gotten his hair cut like this, had told him that it looked ridiculous, while Freddie has insisted that it was what people with a sense of style wore today and had caused Roger to laugh even harder and Freddie to sulk in silence for the rest of the afternoon. 

“Are you that meticulous with timing everything else as well?”, he asks, when he turns away from his reflection again, ”Maybe I should count myself lucky that you´re not putting a timer on when you´re shagging me. But with poor Chrissie…”

The implication leaves a smug sneer on his face and Brian feels anger rising inside of his stomach, making it twist and turn. 

Freddie never used to speak of his wife like that, never used to make those sort of rude, jealous comments. Freddie´s watched Brian marry her, he´s held both of Brian´s children in his arms, he´s laughed and chatted with Chrissie on their annual birthday parties and Christmas get togethers. 

Freddie used to be happy for them, for him and Chrissie. 

“Don´t! “, Brian hisses at him, „Don´t you speak of her like that!”

“My sincere apology, darling. How very rude of me to simply make a small joke.”, he replied, head high, chin up, all defence and underlying aggression. 

But Brian can see the fear behind all of it, the fear of being alone, of letting Brian see how lonely he really is. 

He knows he should be more forgiving, should let the comment slide. But he can´t because there´s so much darkness and so much anger inside of his chest, so much guilt and fear. 

“You know, Fred…Sometimes I really think it´s only jealousy your hiding behind your sneering façade of boredom.”, Brian snaps back at him.

“Oh don´t be ridiculous, darling. Not to be crass, but at least I can go out and fuck someone without cheating on my wife.”, he shoots back at Brian. 

“Get out.”, Brian says calmly, slowly, but he´s shaking with anger. 

“I was about to leave.”, Freddie replies in a sweet, sing-song tone of voice. 

“You better stay away from me tomorrow…”, Brian says and he knows the word sound foolish and a lot less threatening than he had intended. Also, they´re a lie. A fearful, stupid lie. 

Freddie simply smiles at him, an arrogant, winning smile that makes Brian want to slap him. 

“Oh darling, how adorable. Hopefully you won´t get any of your late-night-cravings for a piece of Mercury come tomorrow night.”

“Freddie, get the fuck out of here.”, Brian hisses back at him, his voice a hoarse, angry whisper, just a second away from actually shouting at his friend. 

“Toodeloo Brimi! See you tomorrow!”, Freddie mocks and struts out of Brian´s room like all of this has been but an amusing joke. 

He leaves Brian, sitting down on the rumpled sheets in his bedroom, in a room that smells of sex and lies and loneliness. 

He needs a shower, he needs to open the window to let in some fresh air, needs to get the sweet, intoxicating smell of Freddie´s skin off the sheets. 

When his gaze travels over to the window, he sees the last glimpses of the sun setting over the tall buildings. 

Soon, it will be dark. Soon, Freddie will go out with his friends, his other friends, his exciting friends and live through another night of mischief and adventure, grasping everything that the city has to over to him with both hands, like a kid in a candy store. 

God, Brian fucking hates Munich


	2. You Don´t Have To Put On The Red Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks,  
> thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and commented on the first chapter! Here´s chapter two and we´re getting right into the gritty, dark stuff. Enjoy!

It doesn´t take long for it to happen again, for Brian´s pride to shrivel up under the desire, the hunger for the other man. 

Brian manages to stay away for a few days, manages to lay low, to put his head down and to work, to spend his evenings alone in his hotel room, on the phone with Chrissie and the children. 

Sometimes he goes on an evening walk with Roger, his oldest friend, but it´s usually a sad and quiet affair and their steps often lead them to a Biergarten, where they drink too much German beer and feel even more miserable. 

“Are you alright, mate?”, Roger asks him one night, as they´re sitting on one of the wooden benches outside of the German bar, already on their second pints of Weissbier. 

For the past half an hour, Brian has watched Roger stare at the busty Germany waitress, smiling and winking at her, making her blush whenever she catches Roger´s gaze. 

He would judge his friend for flirting with another woman when he´s a married man but then he´s fucking one of their bandmates on a regular basis while being a married man himself so who is he to judge really?

“Yeah, why wouldn´t I be?”, Brian asks him but he sounds bitter and he feels sorry for it the second the words have left his mouth. 

Roger raises his brows at him and puts down the heavy glass of beer, wiping the white foam the drink has left there from his upper lip.

“Bri, I know you´re not happy with the way the album is progressing. It´s the same for me. I know it feels like shit to be working on songs you´re not completely happy with but lately…”, he gives Brian a sympathetic smile, almost as if he´s feeling a little sorry for him. “You´re not really participating anymore, I just wanted to ask if you´re alright, maybe…”

Brian feels anger bubbling up inside of his chest. He knows what Roger is trying to say but the concern of the other man feels like an insult to him. 

“So, you´re saying I´m not contributing to it?”, he murmurs and takes a large gulp of beer. 

“That´s not what I meant, Bri.”, Roger tries to explain, a sympathetic look in his eyes, but Brian has made up his mind. 

“It´s not like you support me on my ideas when we´re in the studio. You always give in to what John and Freddie want.”, he snaps at the drummer. 

It´s one of those moments again, the tension rising, words leading to more words that make them get angry. They never used to be like this. 

“It´s not like you´re proposing many ideas, mate.”, Roger says flatly. 

Brian clenches his fists and takes a sharp inhale of breath. There are words at the tip of his tongue, words that would accuse Roger of a lack of backbone, of loyalty, of friendship. Words that tell him that he doesn´t know what he´s talking about, that he doesn´t even know what is going on in Brian´s life anymore because he doesn´t care. 

Instead, he decides to swallow his anger…for now. 

“Alright, I think I´ll best head back to the hotel.”, he simply murmurs, gulps down the rest of his beer and then gets up to leave. “Try to not fuck the waitress, yeah Rog?”, he adds. 

“Fuck you too, Bri.”, Roger says but there´s no smile on his face and Brian reckons that he actually means it. 

Brian´s tired, but he feels on edge at the same time. He goes for a walk to get some fresh air but it´s cold and it starts drizzling, so he heads back to the hotel. The streets are busy, even at this late hour, even on a Thursday night, but the chatter and laughter of the people pouring out from the bars and restaurants sounds too loud to Brian´s ears. 

He´s glad to enter the peace and quiet of the hotel lobby eventually. 

Brian tries not to give into the temptation when he walks past the door of Freddie´s hotel room but it´s no use. For a few second, it´s quiet behind the door after he knocks and Brian hopes, prays almost that Freddie´s already gone out for the night, that he´s too late and it would be most sensible to simply go to his own room, his own bed and get some sleep. 

But then Freddie opens the door, wearing his fluffy yellow bathrobe and a smirk on his face, smoking a cigarette, the perfect picture of everything that Brian craves so much tonight. 

“Good evening ,Sir…Don´t recall ordering room service.”, Freddie purrs at him and he grabs him by the rain-damp collar of his jacket and pulls him into the cosy warmth of the room. 

An hour later, he has Freddie on the bed, naked, on his back in front of him and Brian is gripping his hips hard while frantically fucking into the singer. Their clothes are littered around the bed and there´s an empty bottle of rosé on the table by the window, along with two glasses. 

“Ufff…”, the little sound Freddie makes when Brian pushes deep into him once again wakes Brian from his stupor. His thoughts had been circling around the conversation he had had with Roger, his mind focussed on the emotions of anger and frustration he had felt, his body on autopilot. 

There´s a sliver of discomfort on the Persian´s features before he quickly hides it behind fluttering lashes and an expression of dazed lust. 

“Fuck…”, he curses and Brian pushes into him again, more shallow this time, his thrusts becoming faster, skin slapping against skin. 

“You like that? Is that as hard as you´d like it to be, Fred?”, Brian asks him breathlessly. In his mind, he tells himself that Freddie would tell him if it´s too much, if he´s uncomfortable. But he knows that it´s a lie, that Freddie won´t tell him, that he´ll simply take it, take it all. 

“Yeah…”, Freddie nods frantically even though there´s a wobble in his voice that betrays him. 

“That´s good…Because you feel so fucking good, I´m not going to fucking stop!”, Brian hisses and grips the singer´s narrow hips even harder. 

“Don´t stop…”, Freddie groans, obedient and pliant under Brian´s hands. It makes Brian want to scream at him, to ask him why he allows him to do this, to treat him this way. Brian wants resistance, he wants Freddie to put up a fight. 

How perverted, he thinks. How horrible, how destructive, how very wrong. 

Brian changes the pace of his thrusts yet again, slows down, goes deeper, feels Freddie squirm under him. 

“Shit…oh Bri…”, he whispers, hands clinging helplessly onto Brian´s narrow shoulders. 

“That feel good?”, Brian asks, voice rough and alien to his own ears. 

Freddie nods quickly, chest heaving under the laboured breaths he´s taking, veins on his neck popping under sweat-slick skin. Brian feels a twitch in his hands, an urge to grab, to squeeze. 

“Can´t hear you!”, Brian hisses at the man under him.

“Yes…”, Freddie sobs and shivers violently with overstimulation. 

“Good.”, Brian groans and then places his hand on Freddie´s throat, which makes the singer´s eyes snap open. 

There´s a moment of sheer shock on both sides and Brian feels himself spiralling, feels himself losing control as his grip tightens at the sides of the other man´s neck, not enough to block his airways but with enough pressure to decrease the blood flow. 

Freddie gasps and then moans loudly, his cock leaking precum onto his belly, sticky and wet in his thick, dark body hair. 

“That´s what I want to do to you when you put yet another stupid set of synthesizers into our songs!”, Brian groans. 

Freddie looks at him with huge, dark eyes and parted lips, a deer in the headlights and then he whimpers when Brian releases his hold on his throat. 

Brian keeps his hand on Freddie´s shoulder and starts fucking into him faster once again, a punishing pace that has Freddie shivering and sweating under him.

His hand is back on Freddie´s throat, slim fingers closing around it. 

“That´s what I want to do to you when you´re being arrogant and stubborn…When you´re being a fucking brat at the studio!”, he murmurs and Freddie goes bright red, mouth opening, fingers clawing at Brian´s back. 

“Please…Brian…”, he whimpers and Brian can see tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes. He knows that it´s time to stop this, this madness, but he can´t. 

“Please what, Freddie?”, he asks and then leans closer, removing his hand from Freddie throat and pressing his lips against the reddening imprint of his fingers on the Persian´s skin. 

He sucks, gently at first, an open-mouthed kiss against flushed skin, his tongue lapping at it, tasting sweat and the musk of Freddie´s aftershave. 

“Brian…”, Freddie whimpers weakly, as if he´s trying, struggling to answer his question but then Brian sinks his teeth into the singer´s flushed skin and Freddie screams in pain and in pleasure and when Brian pushes into him once more, he comes between their heated bodies. 

As Brian feels the clench of Freddie´s orgasm around his cock, he feels his own climax approaching fast and before it washes over him, he bites down again, sucking on the flesh below his teeth and then goes silent as white, hot pleasure washes over him. 

He sinks down against Freddie´s body, all tension leaving his limbs before Freddie makes a faint sound, choked almost, as if he´s crushed by Brian´s weight but too polite, even now, to say something about it. 

“Sorry…sorry, let me just…”, Brian murmurs, his own voice echoing inside of his head and then he carefully pulls out of Freddie and sinks onto his back next to him. 

Brian closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath, tries to resurface from the trance he feels like he is still under. His mouth feels dry and his limbs are heavy, tingling with an unpleasant kind of numbness. 

For a few seconds, he´s still completely under, pleasantly oblivious to anything that isn´t his hammering heartbeat and the intense waves of pleasure slowly ebbing into a numb kind of warmth. 

Then, slowly, he feels a dreadful notion of guilt settling in, a heavy feeling pressing down onto his chest, making it hard to breathe. 

He turns his head and looks over at Freddie. To his surprise, the other man´s eyes are open, the reddened imprints of Brian´s hand and the bruises his lips have left on the other man´s skin a stark contrast to the sweet and relaxed smile the singer is sporting. 

“Freddie?…”, Brian asks carefully, his voice full of fear, full of dread and panic, thoughts spiralling out of control as he takes in the picture of the man in front of him. 

Freddie´s eyes are bloodshot and there are so many marks on his neck, his arms, his hips even, where Brian had grabbed him. 

Brian thinks back to a morning about six weeks ago, right when they had arrived in Munich. Freddie had been out with his friends all night and had come to the studio, reeking of booze and stumbling around, still riding the last peak of his cocaine high.

Still the most shocking thing had not been his intoxicated state but the black eye and the bruises on his jaw he had spotted, the way he was limping visibly and wincing every time he sat down. The day had ended in a fight, Freddie denying the fact that something had happened to him on that night, getting very angry with them for offering their help. 

Brian realises that Freddie´s bruises on that day had looked quite similar to the ones he had left on the singer´s body and he feels his stomach turn in panic and utter horror. 

“Yeah?”, Freddie replies to his question, still sporting that brave, sweet smile that breaks Brian´s heart, masking his pain like nothing has happened, always playing the fun, easy lover. 

Brian feels the urge to get closer, to take Freddie into his arms, to hold him tight, to undo his damage with soothing touches and loving words, to kiss every bruise he has caused. He remembers how much he had once hated, still does hate, those men who have caused Freddie pain, who have been violent and abusive to him. 

Now, he realises that he has become one of them. 

“I´m sorry…”, he whispers, his voice breaking, his hands shaking when he reaches out towards his friend, places his palms on Freddie´s shoulders, a gentle touch. But it makes the singer flinch, almost as if he´s expecting a slap. 

Still, Freddie keeps on smiling, trying to hide the pain, putting on a show, faking a smile to protect Brian from the reality of what has just happened. 

“What for?”, Freddie asks softly and places one of his hands on Brian´s, gives it a soft squeeze. 

“It´s gotten out of hand…I…I lost control, I…”, Brian stammers and finds the Persian´s gaze, tries to put the emotions into his voice that he doesn´t have the words for. 

But once again, Freddie just smiles, laughs, puts on a comforting façade of normality. He simply wipes away the tears that had been shimmering in the corners of his eyes, his throat raw, his voice hoarse when he speaks. 

“No, don´t you worry your dear little head, darling, really. You needed this and you know I like it rough.”

The words become a mockery, a cruel play Brian can´t bear to look at anymore. He lowers his gaze and in a sudden surge of panic, realises that a sob, painful and deep, is fighting its way up his throat and he closes his eyes and tries to push it down, tries to stay in control. 

He´s shaking now and his head is spinning. 

“Brian darling are you alright?”, Freddie asks him, placing his warm gentle hands on Brian´s chest, a grounding touch, but it makes Brian shiver even harder. 

“No, I…sorry…I´m a bit…I´m just a bit shaky, I…”, he stammers and then his eyes snap open and he sits up, moving away the singer´s touch, feeling the sudden urge to flee, to get far, far away from the other man. 

“Sorry, I…I think I should leave…”, he murmurs and starts searching for his clothes on the floor, jeans and shirt, hastily pulling on his underwear. 

“Bri…you don´t have to go…I…”, Freddie says quickly, getting up from the bed as well, even though Brian can see how unsteady he is on his feet. 

There´s pain inside of his eyes now, the easy smile entirely gone. 

“I´m sorry, I need to…”, he says quickly, already closing his jeans and pulling on his shirt. 

Freddie suddenly steps closer and tries to take hold of Brian´s hands, his eyes are huge and there are tears shimmering inside of them once again. 

“I´m sorry I did something wrong…I obviously did something that you didn´t like…”, he chokes out but Brian´s eyes are focused on the marks on his neck and the bruises his lips have left below the other man´s adam´s apple.

“Y-you can fuck me again if you want to. Really, I wouldn´t mind!”, Freddie offers, voice shaking with desperation and Brian stumbles backwards. 

“Sorry…sorry, I gotta…I gotta go…”, he stammers. 

“Please…Brian…don´t…”, Freddie pleads, naked and vulnerable as he is, slim torso heaving with his breaths, “Please don´t go…I don´t want to be alone, please…”

“I´m sorry, Freddie.”, Brian struggles to even keep on looking at him. 

“I´m going to call Paul then…I-I´m going to ask him to come here!”, Freddie said loudly, a sudden shift in his demeaner, stubborn and angry, building up the wall around himself that had crumbled before. 

Brian hates hearing that name from his friend´s lips, hates how much it can work him up, how much it vexes him to even imagine the Irishman coming to this room, sleeping in the bed with Freddie, touching him. 

“Freddie…”, he sighs, his voice shaking with the strain of keeping his frustrations at bay. 

But as always, Freddie doesn´t stop there. He knows just how to push Brian´s buttons, just how to get his revenge. 

“I´m going to ask him to hold me. Hold me tight…and I´m going to fall asleep in his arms.”, he announces, arms folded in front of his chest, “And then in the morning…we´ll fuck…slowly and tenderly…”

The words make Brian see red. 

“Stop it, Freddie!”, he hisses at his friend, but the singer isn´t done yet. 

“Does that hurt you? Is it painful for you to hear me talking about these things? Because I do these things with Paul, Brian.”

There´s a stubborn kind of resistance on his features, an angry need to make Brian understand just how replaceable he is in his life. 

“Well, he should be your boyfriend then, Fred. Sounds like something a happy couple would do.”, Brian says and tries to button up his shirt with shaking fingers. 

Brian´s word send Freddie into a fit of rage and he´s shouting when he talks back at Brian. 

“He would be if you guys wouldn´t hate his guts. You know, he´s not as bad as you always make him out to be. He´s a decent guy, he takes care of me when I need him, he´s there for me when I…”

“I can´t listen to this right now, I need to get out of here…”, Brian murmurs flatly and walks over to the door. 

“You´re jealous of him, because he…”, Freddie shouts, his voice a high, desperate pitch, shaking with panic. 

“Don´t be so fucking ridiculous, Freddie!”, Brian screams at him, his voice loud and deep and he knows that he should be worrying about the thin walls and other people hearing them fight. 

“At least he kisses me before he fucks me, Brian! At least he looks me in the eyes when we shag! At least he holds me afterwards!”, Freddie shoots back at him, so angry now that he´s barely holding back the tears that come ever so often when he´s upset. 

Brian hates seeing him like this, hates to cause him so much hurt, so much pain. He feels like crying, screaming, pulling Freddie close while pushing him away at the same time. 

“Go to him then! Go and call your loving, wonderful boyfriend Paul and spent the night with him!”, he shouts at Freddie and watches the singer tremble when he raises his voice. 

“Yes, I should and I will, Brian!”, Freddie screams back at him and then he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand and slowly walks over to the bed, sits down, head hanging low, sniffling. 

“You should…”, Brian whispers, simply to fill the sudden deafening silence. 

He knows that this would be the right moment to go, to just leave, to keep himself from making it all worse and worse with each word spoken, each second passing. But he can´t. 

He just lingers there, watches a naked, beaten-down Freddie sit in the rumpled sheets, fighting down the tears. 

Suddenly the Persian looks up at him, eyes so vulnerable, so dark and deep and hurt that Brian feels his heart clench inside of his chest. 

When had he become like those other men? Those men that hurt Freddie, that made him cry, that failed him?

“Y-you don´t…you really don´t…? Don´t you, Bri…?”, the singer stammers and even though the words don´t make much sense, Brian understands what he´s trying to say. 

He sighs, desperately searching, wrecking his brain for something to say. 

Of course I care, Freddie, of course I do., he wants to scream.  
I´m sorry, Freddie! I´m sorry for treating you this way, I´m sorry for what has become of me, for what has become of us!

But he can´t. It´s too complicated, too twisted, too much, too little and everything in between. 

“Freddie, that´s not fair! That´s not how we…it´s not what we…”, he says instead, knowing that the implied accusation hurts his friend a great deal. 

How can he accuse the singer of violating the conditions of their relationship, when they had never set any, when they had never really talked about anything and just gone for the simple, mindless pleasure of finally giving in to the temptation that had lingered between them for more than a decade?

“So I´m right? You really don´t…care…?”, Freddie whispers, ending the question with a small hiccupped sob. 

“Fred…don´t…”, Brian pleads and comes closer again, now standing in front of the bed. 

But his friend only shakes his head and smiles, a bitter, joyless smile, eyes closed, taking a deep, steadying breath. 

“I´m sorry, Brian. I´m an idiot, I shouldn´t have asked. Of course you´re not…of course you don´t…sorry…I´m…s-sorry…”, he murmurs and wipes the tip of his slim nose against the back of his hand, a child-like gesture, almost as if he´s trying to comfort himself. 

“Freddie…”, Brian whispers and sits down next to him on the bed, tries to reach for him, can´t bear to see him like this. 

But the singer flinches, looks at Brian with dark, fearful eyes and shakes his head. 

“Don´t touch me…please…please just go…I´m sorry.”, he whispers and pulls the duvet up to his chest, suddenly seeming uncomfortable with his nakedness. 

Brian gets up from the bed and takes a deep breath. He takes in the sight of the room, the mess of the clothes, the wine on the table, the rumpled sheets and Freddie, looking so small, so hurt.  
Brian feels like a monster. 

“Good night, Freddie.”, he says quietly but the words feel wrong. He can´t even stand to hear his own voice anymore. 

“Good night, darling.”, Freddie whispers, without looking at him, staring down on his tanned hands on the white sheets. 

Brian´s on autopilot when he leaves the room, stumbles along the hallway and into the elevator. In the large mirror on the wall in front of him, he stares at his reflection, blood-shot eyes and pale skin, the mess of his hair and the tightness in his shoulders and jaw. 

His lips are plump and red from when he has attacked Freddie´s neck and suddenly, he feels a phantom twitch in his hands when he remembers closing his fingers around Freddie´s throat.  
The thought of it makes stomach acid and malty beer travel up his throat and luckily, he makes it to his room, before he´s sick into the toilet. 

In a cold sweat, he sits down on the cool, white bathroom tiles and then finally, after weeks of numb sadness and anger, he´s able to cry. Dry, painful sobs wreck his body and he feels all of the previous shame and guilt crashing down on him. 

What has he done? Oh God, what the fuck has he done to Freddie?! Sweet, kind, wonderful Freddie? 

Brian wants to go back to the other man´s room and tell him that he´s made a mistake, beg for his forgiveness, hold his friend in his arms and protect him from all evil, from all darkness. 

But then, the evil, the darkness is also him, Brian himself, and that thought is even more painful. 

Brian gets up and splashes water onto his red and blotchy face, then he leaves the room quickly, not being able to look at his reflection anymore. 

He barely sleeps on that night, lies awake in the dark and stares at the headlights of the cars travelling over the ceiling of his hotel room. At about four in the morning, he opens the window and watches night turn to day, the cold of the night biting into his fingertips. 

The pain feels comforting, just like the hunger he feels, his empty stomach telling him to eat, but he doesn´t do it, tells himself that he doesn´t deserve to. 

He manages to get two, maybe three hours of sleep after he´s had his morning shower, lying on the bed in just his towel, too exhausted to get dressed yet. 

As he gulps down the first sips of his morning tea at the breakfast room of the hotel, nibbling on a slice of toast, he´s barely able to look Roger and John in the eyes when they join him.  
Freddie isn´t there. Of course he isn´t.

“Hey Bri…listen mate…”, Roger murmurs after sitting down next to him quietly for a few minutes, his worried blue eyes travelling over Brian´s tired face. “I´m sorry for last night, okay? You know I sometimes don´t really get the message across, I´m really not good at this stuff.”

The lopsided smile the drummer shoots him is almost comforting to Brian. 

“I was just worried about you because you´ve been so quiet lately.”, Roger adds, his voice much softer this time. 

“I think I should apologize as well, Rog. I was in a bad mood last night…it´s not an excuse but…you known…”, he murmurs, his brain much too tired to say the words he really means to get out, but Roger seems to understand. He always has. 

When they get to the studio, they wait for Freddie, as they always do but this time it´s not just half an hour. The singer doesn´t show up at all and while Roger and John display a mixture of anger and frustrated indifference, Brian feels worried. 

They busy themselves with some improvisations and playbacks, but there´s no real work done for today. 

“Hope his majesty will be in the mood to show up come tomorrow.”, Roger murmurs between gritted teeth and then goes for a beer with Deaky at the Biergarten. 

Brian doesn´t join them, walks up and down his hotel room, calls Chrissie and pretends that everything´s alright and normal for the duration of the twenty-two-minute phone call, before he can´t take it anymore. 

It´s about 5 pm. when he comes to knock on Freddie´s door and to his surprise, it´s Paul Prenter who opens it. 

“Oh hello Brian.”, he says in his distinctive accent and gives him a smile that is both winning and sympathetic at the same time. The room behind him is dark and there´s no music or TV playing. The Irishman looks sleep-mused, the t-shirt and jogging bottoms he´s wearing slightly rumpled. 

“Hey Paul…I just wanted to see if Fred´s alright.”, Brian says quickly. 

“Course he is…”, Paul replies with another one of those cold smiles. 

“He hasn´t been to the studio today, kept us waiting…again.”, Brian adds and tries to peer over the other man´s shoulder into the dark room. 

“Oh, has he? How rude of him!”, Paul replies and intently blocks Brian´s view by leaning against the doorframe. 

Brian´s eyes focus on the human-like shape he´s able to make out on the bed, hidden under the heavy duvet, as well as a head of black hair. Freddie must still be sleeping and as Brian´s gaze shifts back to Paul´s wrinkled clothes, as well as his naked feet, he realises that the other man had been sleeping together with him, possibly holding him while they were cuddled up under the duvet. 

Brian´s heart gives a sharp clench of jealousy. So Freddie has kept his word and really had called Paul after Brian had left. The thought makes his stomach turn. 

“I´m sorry, Brian. It´s probably my fault, really. We went out last night, Fred needed a little cheering up, he was in especially low spirits when I found him, had been crying and all but he wouldn´t say what had happened.”, he gave Brian a look that told the guitarist that the Irishman knew very well what had happened between them. 

“I suggested going out for a drink and we´ve overdone it a bit, you know how he gets when he´s hungry for some fun.” 

Paul winks at him and Brian´s about ready to punch him in the face. 

“He´s been so awfully tired after last night, I just let him sleep, he really needed it.”, Paul cooes and sounds so worried and loving and Brian hates him more with every second. 

“I´m sorry he´s missed studio today and kept you all waiting. It won´t happen again, I´ll make sure of it. Tomorrow, he´ll be there right on time, ready to work.”, Paul promises and gives Brian a sly, winning smile. 

“Good…yeah…that´s…”, Brian murmurs, feeling like an intruder into their small, cosy bubble, awkward and unwanted. “Tell him I was here, alright? Tell him I…”, Brian can´t still help but add and Pauls smile turns even sweeter, which takes away his courage, “Nevermind…just tell him I was here, okay?”

“Will do!”, Paul chirps and Brian knows for sure that he won´t.


	3. You Don´t Have To Sell Your Body To The Night

For the next week, Freddie barely talks to him. He´s shy, skittish almost whenever Brian sets eyes on him, rushes out of the studio as soon as they´re done for the day and even avoids using the elevator at the same time as Brian, rather taking the stairs, mumbling something about keeping his fitness up. 

It breaks Brian´s heart to see him like this, makes him want to run after the other man, grab him, hold him close simply to keep him in one spot. 

He wants to talk to Freddie, needs to talk to Freddie. But the singer won´t let him, won´t even look at him, is punishing him with silence and absence. 

Brian´s suffering but he knows he deserves it. 

Even around Roger and John, Freddie is behaving differently. 

He´s an angel at the studio. 

He´s almost on time, seems to be sober when he arrives in the mornings, doesn´t make snappy or rude comments at their ideas for new songs and doesn´t provoke fights, doesn´t bicker, doesn´t shout and only drinks a beer every now and then when it gets later in the afternoon. 

He´s like a watered-down version of himself, quiet, withdrawn, politely smiling at them, as if they were strangers rather than his best friends. 

“What´s gotten into Fred these days?”, Roger asks him a week later, on their lunch break, munching on a slightly stale sandwich of wholegrain German bread and cheese. 

“Don´t know…”, Brian murmurs, hiding behind his mug of tea to keep the sadness inside of his eyes from betraying him. 

“No grumpiness, no complaining about lyrics, no demands to make it sound more disco…It´s kinda creepy, I´m telling you, he´s proper weird.”, Roger adds and is kind enough to refrain from pressing more questions. 

He´s worried about Freddie, just like they all are. 

Freddie doesn´t join them on their trips to the Biergarten anymore, he doesn´t talk much at all and whenever Brian passes him in the lobby or in the hallways, he´s with Paul, the two of them practically attached at the hip. 

Paul´s as the studio as well, dropping Freddie off and picking him up afterward, always making sure to place a caring, comforting hand on the small of Freddie´s back, guiding him towards a car. 

Brian doesn´t knock on Freddie´s door anymore and Freddie doesn´t come over, their friendship vanishing into a cold state of disinterested colleagueship, working side by side but never really speaking anymore. 

As the days pass, his yearning to talk to the other man grows almost unbearable. The singer´s silence is painful. 

Brian can´t keep himself from asking if he really is that easily replaceable. 

Paul seems to have comfortably slithered into the space that Brian has left, and Freddie seems happy with it.

At least he´s less stroppy, less angry and frustrated, talks back much less, almost seems…content. Brian hates the thought of it even though he knows that he should be happy for his friend. 

Freddie seems to have started to lead a life completely separate from them in this strange city, acquired a separate group of friends and rarely stays at the hotel anymore. 

Brian´s almost surprised when on Friday, the singer invites them to join him and his friends on a night out in town. 

“Thanks Fred, but I think I´m having a quiet night in. I´m pretty tired, I won´t be much fun anyways.”, John explains with a sweet smile and Freddie nods and smiles back at him. Freddie has always had a soft spot for the youngest member of their band and Brian is sure that there´s almost nothing the bassist could do to annoy or anger the singer. 

He doesn´t really know how Freddie would react to Roger or him saying no to almost every invitation for a party or a night out. 

“Is he gonna be there?”, Roger asks, taking a drag of his cigarette, feet kicked up on one of the small tables at the communal area of the studio. 

“Who?”, Freddie asks and there´s the ghost of a sparkle inside of his eyes, a hint of aggression caused by the sheer question Roger has posed, knowing full well who the drummer is talking about.  
“Your little boyfriend, Prenter.”, Roger takes another long, lazy drag of his cigarette. 

“He´s not my boyfriend, darling.”, Freddie said, nose slightly scrunches up, doing that little wave with his hand as if the drummer´s word have been nothing but an outrageous over-exaggeration. 

“Oh he´s not? Don´t let him hear that, Fred, I think he´d disagree.”, Brian shoots Roger a look over the rim of his cup of tea, trying to signal him to spot the teasing. 

“But yes, he´s going be there as well.”, Freddie adds with a smile, chin up, shoulders pushed back, resuming the position he usually takes when Roger teases him or rather, points out the things that bother him about the things the singer does on the daily. 

Brian knows Roger only means well, but he´s not sure if Freddie ever takes the drummer´s words as friendly advice. Freddie rather sees them as another provocation. 

“Alright, that´s me out of it.”, Roger sighs and gets up from his chair. 

Brian watches Freddie rolls his eyes and sigh in frustration, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He´s wearing a red and white striped t-shirt with a low neckline and Brian notices that even though the marks his hand had left a week prior are gone, the faint bruise of the bite he had planted on the other man´s neck, is still slightly visible. 

“Brilliant! So none of you will join me then?”, the singer sighs dramatically, already about to turn around and leave. 

“I´ll join you!”, Brian pipes up even though he doesn´t really know how he managed to work up the courage, nor is he entirely convinced that it´s a very clever idea. But then his mouth had spoken before his mind had had the time to catch up with it. 

He desperately needs to talk to Freddie, needs to apologize, needs to make sure that he´s alright and this might be his only chance. 

Freddie raised his eyebrows but he doesn´t smile when his gaze clings to Brian for a mere few seconds. 

“Alright, I´ll pick you up from your room at about 10 and then Paul´s getting us into town.”

His gaze travels away from Brian, but Brian´s able to see the barely concealed nervousness in the singer´s eyes before he can look away. 

“Happy to hear that you´re up for it, Bri!”, he then says without looking at Brian, already on his way out. “Gives me hope that not all members of this band are half-dead already!”

Roger scoffs and flips Freddie off, Deaky just shakes his head and gives a little eye-roll at the comment. 

“You sure you wanna do this to yourself, mate?”, Roger asks him, when the chauffeur drives them back to the hotel. Freddie has left half an hour before them and Brian is pretty sure that the Persian will be nowhere to be found before their set pick-up-date at 10 on that evening. 

“Yeah, I´m sure it´ll be fun. Don´t really get why you don´t want to come, we haven´t had a proper night out in ages.”, Brian replies while he watches the car pass through Nymphenburg district, counting the lights on Prinzenstraße. 

Roger just shakes his head at his words. 

“Fun?! Bri, it´s gonna be one big fucking Freddie-Mercury-show all night long! He´s gonna prance around in whichever ridiculous gay-porno-look-alike outfit he decides to wear for tonight and then people are going to pretend he´s the king of the club, no, the city, and grind on him and ask him to snort coke from their dick or some ridiculous shit.”

Brian just laughs even though it pains him to pretend that those words did not have an effect on him. Roger has described a version of the evening that will most certainly happen and is simultaneously Brian´s worst case scenario. 

“Rog, are you listening to yourself? You sound like my grandma, seriously, what´s so bad about having a little fun?”, Brian simply says, even though he knows that the role of the carefree, fun-loving, easy-going guy does not suit him at all. 

Roger leans in a little closer, his gaze fixed on Brian when he speaks. 

“Prenter´s gonna be all over him all night…You do know that, Bri, don´t you? He´s gonna put his filthy hands all over Fred and dance with him and feed him those fucking pills and supply him with all the coke he wants…Do you think you´ll be able to stomach standing by…watching him ruin himself…?”

“I won´t watch him do that.”, Brian says, his voice unwaveringly strong but the drummer simply quirks up his eyebrow at him. 

“What are you going to do? Take away his pills, kick Prenter in the balls?”, he asks. 

“I´m going to keep an eye out for him, that´s all I´m saying.”, Brian replies and Roger snorts a little laugh and nudge John, who sits in the front seat next to the driver, in the shoulder. 

“So you´re going to be his babysitter for the night? Oh, that sounds fun ! Deaky, maybe you should come with Brian, you know how to look after a kid going crazy from eating too many sweeties, don´t you?”

They all chuckle but there´s a dreadful nervousness pulling at Brian´s insides and he´s not able to shake it for the whole evening. 

Brian has lost sight of Freddie about half an hour after getting to the club and the feeling of nervousness that has been his companion during the whole night is making an appearance again. 

The world they have entered is completely alien to him, the flashing lights, the music, the base that´s pumping, all those people in all types of dress and undress. 

It could have been exciting, because even though Brian´s never been to a club like this before, there´s a certain kind of curiosity with which he is eying up a few of the men and woman that he sees, his gaze fixed on exposed skin, expressive makeup and bodies moving to the beat of the music. 

He can feel them watching him as well, can feel their eyes travelling over his lanky body, the well-fitted white shirt and those tight light washed jeans he is wearing. 

Brian knows he might not be everybody´s cup of tea, especially with his head of curls, but those people don´t seem to care for the conventional standards of beauty. Maybe that´s why Freddie feels so at home in this place. 

The club seems fashionably run-down, decadent flowers and black and red wallpaper with intricate patterns, plush sofas, expensive drinks, and many small nooks for two, three or even more people to fornicate in. People get down to it just like that, out in the open, for everyone to see. Brian reckons that that´s part of the place´s appeal as well.

The night goes exactly as Roger had predicted. They have pre-drinks at Freddie´s suite. It´s loud and crowded and Brian feels very foreign in a room he had stayed at a hundred times before.

People flog to Freddie like he´s some kind of guru, hanging on his lips, laughing loudly when he makes a joke, all casual touches and yearning glances. They want him, every last one of them. 

But once they arrive at the club the singer is nowhere to be seen and Brian starts to get a bad feeling about it. 

Of course, he could try and talk a bit more to some of the people in here and not turn down everyone who´s trying to even approach him, at least have a drink and a chat with some of them. Brian wouldn´t dance with anyone, knows that it would make Chrissie uncomfortable if she knew about it. 

The thought is almost ironically funny to him, the way he refrains from grinding against someone to the beat of the music because it would feel like cheating on his wife while regularly meeting up with one of his bandmates to have sex at the same time.

But with matters concerning Freddie, everything always feels a little different, not applying to any kinds of social norms or moral values. Because with Freddie, Brian feels helpless, a slave to his own feelings and desires. 

He didn´t come to this place to meet other people, to dance, to have fun. He came here to talk to his friend, to apologize, to make sure that he is okay. 

Therefore, Brian stays on the lookout, scanning the dim room, trying to make out a familiar moustached face in the crowd of people, the flashing lights blinding him. He keeps bumping into folks, keeps feeling hands on his back, his arse even. 

“Excuse me…sorry…”, he murmurs, when he tries to squeeze through the narrow spaces between the bodies, but no one around here seems to care about politeness anyway. 

After half an hour, he starts to get a little restless, starts to feel antsy about the whole place. There are so called “dark rooms”, pitch black, closed off from the main dancefloor with curtains and the hungry look in people´s eyes disappearing in there makes the hair on Brian´s arms stand on edge. 

What if Freddie´s in there? He´d never be able to find him. 

Brian tries to push the thought away, tries to keep his senses sharp, stays on the look-out and keeps on pushing through the tight spaces between the people dancing and drinking. 

He needs to find Freddie; he needs to talk to him!

Brian starts to feel uncomfortable, his body overstimulated by the constant unwanted touches and the flashing lights. He starts to feel like he´s in a trance, starts to feel his senses losing focus.

He thinks about sitting down for a second, resting, maybe getting a drink of water, but then he sees the slim back of someone in a black ribbed undershirt and his heart starts beating faster. 

He would recognize this set of shoulders anywhere, the dark head of hair and to Brian´s shame, the arse, nicely extenuated by the tight light-washed jeans Freddie is wearing.

Almost instantly, Brian can tell that something isn´t right with his friend.

Freddie´s slumped against a wall, cigarette in his hand, his wrist oddly limp. 

Brian comes closer, slowly, carefully making his way over, as if the other man is a wounded animal. He doesn´t want to startle him. Brian´s a mere meter away from him now, but Freddie doesn´t raise his head, doesn´t seem to notice him, caught up in his own world. 

“Freddie?”, Brian asks, but his voice is too quiet and the muffled base of the music as well as the chatting, shouting, laughing and oh gosh, moaning of the people around them is drowning him out. 

So, he takes the risk and gets a little closer. 

“Fred?”, Brian asks again, leaning in slightly, gently placing a hand on the singer´s shoulder. 

Freddie´s movements seem incredibly slow and then he raises his head, his dark eyes blinking up at Brian, lashes fluttering, taking three whole seconds to recognize him. 

There´s something very wrong with him, Brian can tell immediately and feels panic rising inside of his chest. 

“Bri?”, Freddie asks, brow slightly furrowed, seeming disoriented and confused. Then, little by little, a smile starts to bloom on his lips, utterly sweet and happy, pleased to see Brian, “Brimi, hey…”

He leans in a little and Brian can smell the booze on his breath. Freddie seems to sway, clumsily taking a drag of his cigarette, cheeks hollowed. 

“Are you alright, Freddie?”, Brian asks, carefully placing a hand on the other man´s hip to steady him.

“Wha´?”, Freddie slurs, leaning in a little more. 

“Are you alright?”, Brian repeats, a little louder this time. 

Freddie leans back again, head resting against the wall behind him and nods, smiles dreamily, takes another drag off his cigarette. Brian can see that his nostrils seem reddened, the skin irritated and raw and there´s a small bit of white powder shimmering in his dark moustache. 

God, he´s high as a kite. But there´s something else to it. Brian has seen Freddie when he´s on drugs and he´s never been like this. The singer almost seems half asleep, pliant, obedient and slow and snuggly, the way he places one of his hands on Brian´s shoulder and runs his fingers over the material of the guitarist´s shirt and then up and down his chest. 

“Are you sure?”, Brian asks and watches Freddie struggle to put out his cigarette in an empty shot glass that´s standing on a small black table with an arrangement of opulent flowers, underlining the sultry forbidden atmosphere of the place. 

“Yeah sure…I´m just having a little rest…think I had a bit much to drink…”, Freddie blabbers and leans against Brian, lets himself be taken into Brian´s arms like a tired little boy. 

Suddenly, Brian´s able to forget about the place they´re at, the music and the people and late hour. It´s just them, Freddie needing him and Brian´s first impulse to help, to protect, coming to him so naturally. 

“Oh, there he is!”, the words make their little bubble burst and suddenly, Paul is standing right next to them, face flushed from the alcohol, pupils wide with the substances he has consumed. “Freddie, what are you doing standing around like that?” 

The Irishman is trying to get a closer look at Freddie, while the singer keeps on hiding his face in Brian´s shoulder. 

“Just needed a few minutes…M´not really feeling too good…”, Freddie murmurs, his eyes barely able to focus on the face of the man in front of them. 

Paul simply laughs and pats Freddie´s shoulder, which makes Brian want to push him away and pull Freddie even closer. He knows who´s to blame for the drugged-up state his friend is in, of that much he is sure. 

It´s only for Freddie´s sake that he doesn´t drag the Irishman outside to beat the shit out of him. 

Brian knows that the sudden rage he is feeling should scare him. Usually, he is a peace-loving, friendly and calm guy. But the protectiveness he feels for Freddie causes him to see red whenever he senses a treat to his friend´s wellbeing. 

“That´s just the tiredness kicking in, you need to dance it off, darling!”, Paul laughs.

“No…I think I`m just gonna…rest for a little bit longer…Here with Brimi…”, Freddie replies in a slurred little murmur, his gaze travelling up to Brian´s eyes for a second, the briefest of contacts, a silent question, a plea for Brian to play along, to protect him even. 

Paul rolls his eyes and shakes his head, raising his brows as if Freddie needs nothing but a little persuasion to keep on going. 

“Freddie, come on, don´t be boring! You just need to…”, he starts but Brian won´t have any of it. 

“He said he´d like to stay here!”, he says in a low, steady voice, hazel eyes fixed on the Irishman´s flushed face, brows furrowed. Brian feels a tingling at the back of his neck, hears the rushing of blood inside of his ear. He feels the hair on his arms stand on edge as Paul leans in a little closer, seemingly unimpressed by Brian´s demeanour. 

“Did he now, Brian?”, he asks, just loud enough for Brian to hear. He can smell the other man´s aftershave, heavy and expensive, can see the way his upper-lip quivers with hidden aggression. 

Brian knows he has to stand his ground now, as the other man will not give up without a fight. 

“Yes Paul, he did.”, Brian replies calmly and then adds, almost hissing the words at the other man: „What the fuck did you give him, he´s barely able to stand?”

Paul just laughs, a shocked little snort, as if he´s never heard anything more ridiculous, almost seeming offended by Brian´s accusation. 

“I didn´t give anything to him. He popped a few pills, what of it? It´s what he does every night, they´re harmless, really!”, he declares. 

“So he´s like this on every night?!”, Brian asks, jaw set tight with anger. “And that´s when you drag him off to your hotel room and have your way with him?!”

“Oh no Brian, there´s no dragging involved. He comes with me freely.”, Paul says with quietly, a sickening twinkle in his blue eyes, “And sometimes we bring some friends. You know how much Freddie enjoys some good company. It´s so much fun, you should join in some time…”

Brian feels a twitch in his bones, is on the verge of surging forward to punch the grin from the other man´s sly face, when suddenly, another voice pipes up right next to them.  
“Was ist los, Freddie? Geht´s dir nicht gut?“*

The man seems young, in his early twenties maybe, glittery eye shadow making his blue eyes look even bigger, his blonde hair styled in a vintage-curl that makes him seem even more boyish. At first, Brian feels the urge to tell him how rude it is to interrupt a conversation like that, but then he sees the genuine concern for Freddie in the boy´s eyes and decides against it. 

He doesn´t exactly understand what the stranger has said, but the boy seems to be worried, that much Brian can tell. 

“Freddie´s not feeling too well.”, he explains in a soft voice and the boys gives an understanding nod that makes Brian wonder how often he has seen Freddie like this. 

„Brian here says it´s something I´ve given him? Can you believe it, Gustav?”, Paul pipes up, slinging an arm around the young man´s slim shoulders. 

“I want to go home, Brian…”, Freddie suddenly murmurs into the collar of Brian´s shirt, going a little limper in his arms, as the guitarist tightens his hold on him. 

“Was hat er gesagt?* What, Freddie?”, Gustav asks, worry making the pitch of his voice go up. Brian wonders if he´s even old enough to be in this club, with the way his big blue eyes seem so full of innocent concern. 

“Nach Hause…I want to go home…”, Freddie repeats and struggles to focus his gaze on the faces of the two men in front of them. 

„You really don´t look well. You better get home, Freddie, sleep it off.”, the boy says in a thick German accent and seems to reach the singer´s clouded senses as Freddie nods weakly. 

“Home…”, he whispers, his breath warm against the skin of Brian´s neck, which seems to be the guitarist´s cue to get going.

“I´ll get him back to the hotel.”, he says matter-of-factly, starting to manoeuvre Freddie´s almost limp body away from the wall. 

Paul gives Brian a smile that is a terrifying act of warm thankfulness, which makes the guitarist´s insides turn. 

“Thank you, Brian. I´m sure he greatly appreciates having such a caring friend.”, he says, and his eyes start twinkling dangerously but Brian keeps a straight face and simply nods. 

“Night Freddie, love!”, Pauls purrs into the singer´s ear and pressed a smacking kiss onto Freddie´s cheek, which has the Persian pulling a face, seemingly quite disoriented as to where the sudden unwelcome touch came from. 

„Night Paul…“, he groans but then his squinting eyes set on Gustav and he musters up a small but very warm smile for the young man. 

“Gute Nacht, Gustav*…”, Freddie says softly, almost as if he´s trying to comfort the boy, trying to tell him that everything will be alright, that there´s no need to worry about him. 

Brian reckons Gustav is one of the young men that Freddie seems to simply attract, boys who flog to him, seeking his protection and advice, thrown out of their homes, cast out by their families and friends the moment they had decided to reveal a part of themselves that had before been hidden. 

Freddie takes these young men under his wing, cares for them, looks out for them. Mother Mercury, Brian thinks, this sort of alter-ego of his friend, a kinder, softer version that Freddie has come to hide from anyone else, vulnerable and sweet, seeing himself in these helpless young men for whom he cares so very much. 

“Gute Nacht, Freddilein. Schlaf dich aus*, hope you´re feeling better soon.”, Gustav says softly, tenderly almost and then Brian gets them moving and carefully guides Freddie out of the general noise and chaos that is the night club. 

“I feel really sick…”, Freddie slurs against Brian´s neck when their cab has almost reached the hotel. 

The cab driver gives an annoyed sound from the front. Brian´s had a ten-minute-discussion with him when the cab had arrived, because he´d refused to drive them back to the hotel, seeing how pale and ill Freddie was. 

The man probably knows when he sees someone who´s about to be sick very soon. 

“Der reihert mir die ganze Karre zu! Sucht´s euch ein andres Taxi!“*

It had been Brian´s luck that in the hand, he had managed to persuade the driver, shoving a Fünfzig Mark Schein his way, mixing in as much German as he could, to make himself be understood. In the end, the driver had taken pity on them. 

They make it to the hotel and into the elevator, before Freddie starts shaking, his skin goes clammy with sweat and he throws up all over the plush red carpet and Brian´s shoes. 

Freddie seems delirious when he comes up for air again and makes a sound at the back of his throat that almost sounds like he´s crying with discomfort. 

“Fuck…”, he groans and then sobs and stumbles back against Brian. 

“It´s okay…it´s okay, love…”, Brian comforts him and then gently guides him out of the elevator, feeling sorry for the maid who has to clean up the mess on the carpet. 

He gets Freddie to his room instead of the singer´s own, simply because that´s what feels right and it´s where he thinks Freddie would be safest. 

The singer´s almost completely passed out when Brian lays him down on the bed, weakly blinking against the light of the bedside lamp and groaning softly when Brian starts taking off his sweaty clothes to get him more comfortable for sleep. 

It´s a struggle, because they´re tight-fitted and Freddie keeps wiggling about, keeps twisting away from his touch. Brian thinks about abandoning his task, feels Freddie grabbing onto his hands to push them away when Brian tries to pull down his jeans. 

“No…”, Freddie moans and almost sounds like he´s in pain. “Please don´t…please...”

“Freddie, I´m just going to change you out of those…”, tries to explain, but then Freddie starts shaking and when he opens his eyes and looks up at Brian, he seems incredibly scared. 

“No…please…”, the Persian moans and then freezes and grips even tighter onto Brian´s wrists, keeping them away from the waistband of his jeans. 

Brian stays still when he comes to realise what Freddie must be thinking. The singer doesn´t even seem to recognize him, when he looks up to him, just seems to feel those strange hands trying to pull down his jeans while he´s been laid down on a bed. 

Brian is sure of the fact that this isn´t just a drugged-up fever-dream for Freddie, that he has actually been in a situation like this, helpless and intoxicated, a victim to someone´s whim, taken advantage of, touched against his will.

The thought makes Brian´s heart ache for the other man, makes his chest clench in pain. 

“Shhh, it´s okay, it´s me…It´s Brian…it´s okay…”, Brian says softly, quietly, pouring warmth and comfort into his words. 

It takes a second for the information to sink in, a small eternity before Freddie´s disorientation vanishes and he seems to recognize Brian, slowly relaxing his hold on the guitarist´s hands. 

“Brian…”, he murmurs quietly and Brian gently places both of his hands on Freddie´s cheeks, a grounding touch. 

“Yeah…it´s just me, love…just silly old Brian…”, he whispers with a soft smile. 

“Bri…”, Freddie repeats, his breathing slowing down, the panic slowly subsiding. 

“Yeah…just me…just me, honey…”, Brian whispers. “I was just trying to get you out of those jeans so you´d be a little more comfortable. Is that okay?”

Freddie nods but his eyes stay on Brian´s hands the whole time, his gaze travelling up to Brian´s face sometimes, as if to check if it is still him who is undressing him. Brian can see his naked thighs trembling when he pulls the duvet up the singer´s lean body. 

“There you go, much better…”, he says softly and takes a seat next to him on the side of the bed, stroking over Freddie´s dark hair. The singer sighs and leans into the touch. He´s almost asleep again. 

Brian sits with him for a little while longer, his fingers gently caressing Freddie´s cheek, which seems to ground and calm his friend. 

Brian´s about to get up from the spot, but then he suddenly hears Freddie´s voice. 

“Thank you…”, the Persian whispers, eyes half-closed when he blinks up at Brian. 

“That´s alright, love…Get some sleep. I´ll be right here.”, Brian replies. 

He strips down to his underwear and then get into bed, turns of the light and listens to Freddie´s breathing in the dark. 

He´s got the singer safe for now, has got him here, in his room, where nothing can happen to him. And that´s what counts. 

Still, the shock lingers onto senses, keeps him awake. He had been Freddie´s only chance to escape the club, to escape Paul. What would have happened if he hadn´t been there? Where would Freddie be now?

His eyes travel over his friend´s sleeping features. He looks young. Small. Vulnerable. 

Would Freddie even have trusted him, hadn´t he been in such a state? Would Freddie have chosen to come with him, hadn´t it been for his helplessness?

Brian thinks back to those days before, Freddie´s quietness, his tendency to escape every kind of conversation with Brian, almost hiding from him. 

Brian doesn´t really know an answer to the question, doesn´t know if it´s a sign that not everything is lost yet, that there is still some trust for him inside of Freddie´s heart. 

All he knows is that Freddie´s safe for now. And that he will do everything in his power to protect his beloved friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations for the snippets of German: 
> 
> “Was ist los, Freddie? Geht´s dir nicht gut?“= “What´s going on? Are you alright, Freddie?“
> 
> “Was hat er gesagt?”= “What did he say?”
> 
> “Gute Nacht, Gustav.”= “Good night, Gustav.”
> 
> “Gute Nacht, Freddilein. Schlaf dich aus.“= „Good night, Freddilein (German pet-name-version of Freddie), go and sleep it off.”
> 
> “Der reihert mir die ganze Karre zu! Sucht´s euch ein andres Taxi!“= „He´s going to vomit all over my car! Go and look for a different cab!”


	4. You Don´t Have To Wear That Dress Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings,  
> here´s another update before I go on a seaside holiday for a week to enjoy some fresh air and some time offline.  
> Once again, this is an intense chapter, emotionally and physically quite straining for both of our boys.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Freddie´s sick three more times in the span of the next five hours. Brian´s only half-asleep next to him, waking at every rustle of the sheets when the singer moves and every little moan or groan he gives in his sleep. 

Brian guides him to the bathroom when he hears Freddie heaving and coughing next to him, stays with him and soothingly rubs his back while Freddie vomits, coughing pitifully, withering with stomach cramps for minutes on end. Afterwards, Brian helps him rinse his mouth, wipes his face with a soft, warm flannel and tucks him back into bed. 

Freddie seems barely conscious and just sinks into the sheets, where he falls back asleep on the spot. It´s only after the last time they get back from the bathroom, that Freddie snuggles up into Brian´s arms, feet and fingers cold when they press against Brian´s skin for warmth. 

He murmurs something inaudible and sighs when Brian pulls him in and holds him tight, soothingly rocks him back to sleep and kisses the top of his head. 

Brian watches the first morning-light creep in through the curtains, red and orange, chasing away the dark of the night until the room is bathed in pale grey. 

When Freddie starts stirring in Brian´s arms, he wakes him enough to help him sit up and slowly nurses some water into him, keeps on reminding him to have a sip every now and then. After that, he lets him rest again, draws the curtains closed to shut out the harsh daylight. 

He´s in limbo for a few hours, simply takes Freddie into his arms for a while and dozes off in the dark, catching up on some sleep himself, while he keeps on checking on the singer. 

When it´s around midday, he gets hungry and has a granola bar from the hotel´s stack next to the mini fridge. He ponders if he should wake Freddie up for some food, but then abandons the idea. The singer´s stomach is irritated enough as it is and Brian´s scared that Freddie being sick again would cause him to lose even more fluids than he already has. 

He calls the studio and is glad to find a slightly grumpy Roger on the other end, explains to him what´s been going on and why they´re not there. 

“Good thing you were with him.”, Roger murmurs into the receiver and he knows that it´s supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn´t.

It makes him think about all the times when he hasn´t been there, when Freddie´s been like this and there had been no one to guide him home, to tuck him into bed and to care for him. All the times when someone had taken advantage of him, hurt him, caused him pain. All the times when Freddie had come back to the studio the next day and acted like nothing had happened. 

It´s around 2 pm when Freddie starts stirring in the sheets and then opens his eyes, a low groan escaping his lips, before he hides his face in the pillow. 

“Freddie?”, Brian asks softly, careful to make his presence known, sensing an opportunity to get Freddie to have some more water, maybe even some tea.

Carefully, Brian sits down on the side of the bed and places a hand on the Persian´s naked shoulder, which has anything bit the desired effect. 

Freddie jerks away from his touch and on his face, previously so soft and relaxed, shows an expression of naked fear, his eyes dark as night. He goes into flight mode and sits up hastily, before his mind seems to catch up with what he is seeing. 

“It´s okay, you´re alright, love. It´s me…”, Brian says softly and places both of his hands onto the Persian´s shoulders, gently squeezing them. 

Freddie´s breathing slows down, his eyes fixed into Brian´s face, a desperate intensity in them, as the words seem to reach him, slowly but surely. 

“…Do you know where you are?”, Brian asks him and Freddie looks around, sees the mess of the clothes on the floor and the general clutter of Brian´s room. He makes a vague movement with his head, as if he´s not really sure of what to say. 

“We´re in my room, this is my bed. I took you home from the club last night because you weren´t feeling well.”, Brian explains, his gaze fixed on the other man and Freddie looks into his eyes for a long, undecided second before he gives a slow nod.

“You´re alright, Freddie, it´s okay…you´re okay…”, Brian adds and Freddie nods again, slowly coming to terms with his situation. 

Brian makes out a slight wobble in the other man´s lower lip, sees the singer blink hastily and scoots a little closer, ready to hold his friend, to wipe away any tears that might run down his cheeks at any moment, but then Freddie simply pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Oh my god…my fucking head…”, he groans and takes a deep, pained breath, “Fuck…”, the Persian hides his face in his hands and Brian´s not really sure if this is all about the physical pain Freddie is feeling because of his headache or the embarrassment, the shame of losing control, of being so dependent of Brian´s care. 

Brian doesn´t say much, knows that he wouldn´t be able to find the right, comforting words for Freddie at the moment. He simply tries to be there for him, arranges the pillows for him so he can sit up a little while Brian hands him a glass of water and a little later, a nice hot cup of tea, which he makes using the small kettle and the expensive teabags that came with the room. 

He even manages to eat half of a granola bar, although Brian has a suspicion that it´s only because it allows him to take an Ibuprofen to relief his headache. 

They don´t talk much, but somehow, they end up cuddled up under the covers, both tired and a bit cold, Freddie inching closer to him after laying down again until Brian takes him back into his arms. 

For a few minutes, they´re both stiff and unsure, but then Freddie relaxes into his embrace and everything falls into place, the singer´s head coming to rest on Brian´s slim chest, while the guitarist carefully starts to run his fingers through Freddie´s thick, short hair. 

It´s strange almost, the tenderness foreign to the both of them. This is not what they usually do, much different from the rough routine they have established over the past weeks, using each other, abusing each other for the thrill of it. 

But this feels different, feels right and Brian grants himself the luxury of pretending that this, this closeness, this softness, is their normal. Because it´s what he yearns for, what he dreams of. 

“What even happened last night?”, Freddie asks quietly, after they both had been silent for a long while. He turns his head slightly to be able to look up at Brian. 

His friend still looks tired, his eyes bloodshot and red, but he´s less pale and the previous jitter that had taken a hold of his limbs the night before, is gone. Brian´s immensely happy to see him better, only now noticing how heavily the worry had weighed on his chest. 

“You weren´t feeling well, Freddie. You seemed dazed, I think someone…”, Brian explains and comes to a short halt. Of course, he doesn´t know for sure what really happened last night but he has a strong suspicion. And he decides to go with it, “…someone drugged you up. I took you back to the hotel so you could rest.”

Freddie furrows his brow.

“Drugged me up?...But I didn´t take anything else than I usually do when I go out.”, he says quietly, gaze unfocused as he´s deep in thought. 

Carefully, Brian places a hand onto his shoulder, stirring him out of his thoughts. 

He knows that his next words might cause trouble, but he´s willing to deal with it. It just doesn´t feel right to keep his concerns to himself. 

“Freddie…I know you´re sick of hearing it, but Paul…I think he had something to do with it…He´s the one who supplies you with stuff, isn´t he?”, he asks carefully. 

“Yes…”, Freddie replies, dark eyes fixed on Brian´s hazel ones. 

“Was there anything that was…different? A funny taste maybe…like an aftertaste or something?”, Brian keeps on asking but Freddie just shakes his head. 

“No…”

Brian gives a slow nod and then leans his head back against the wooden headboard of the bed, while Freddie resumed his position, being snuggled up against Brian, his head resting against the guitarist´s shoulder. 

Brian feels conflicted. There are words lingering on the tip of his tongue, words of warning, words that would directly accuse Paul of causing Freddie harm, words that would result in another conflict because Freddie doesn´t like to hear them. 

He´s said them before, many many times, as have John and Roger. But Freddie is deaf to them, brushes them aside as the overprotective ramblings of his concerned friends, tells them how boring and prude they have become and laughs in their faces. 

So Brian stays silent and just tightens his hold on Freddie, as if it could shield the singer from any kind of harm and most importantly, from harming himself. 

Freddie sighs softly, nuzzles his face into the crook of Brian´s neck and then slowly falls back asleep, going for another nap. Brian puts the TV on low volume and zaps through the German channels.  
Rain starts hitting the windows and it feels cosy and save to have Freddie like this. 

An hour later, the singer stomach starts to make funny noises and they order Hühnerbrühe from room service, because it´s the only thing Brian thinks Freddie can stomach right now. 

They eat while watching a German soap opera on the telly, sitting shoulder to shoulder, their thighs touching, both wearing the fluffy white hotel bathrobes. 

Brian is about to make them some more tea when he sees Freddie getting up from the bed with wobbly legs, having untangled himself from the blankets and stumbling away from the bed, only to quickly grab onto the edge of the nightstand, struggling to keep his balance. 

Brian quickly put down the mugs and rushes to his side, steadying him by holding onto his narrow waist. 

“Fred, what are you doing?”, he asks and watches a determined look settle onto Freddie´s still quite pale and tired features. 

“I need a shower. I positively reek of booze…”, the singer says, about to take the next step, when his legs seem to give in and Brian quickly catches him in his arms.

“Careful, careful, Freddie…”

He sits the singer back down on the bed and Freddie gives a frustrated little huff. Brian knows that even for his exhausted body and dizziness, the singer will rest no sooner than when he had had his shower. 

And there´s only one way he will allow his friend to stand in a slippery bathtub in his current condition. Brian extends his arm out to the other man so Freddie can grab onto is when getting up. 

“Come on, let´s get going.”, he says enthusiastically and Freddie looks at him as if he´d suggested flying to the moon. 

“Are you escorting me to the bathroom, darling? It´s right over there, if I recall correctly. So no need for all.”, Freddie objects, one of his fine dark eyebrows quirked up at Brian. 

“I´m helping you take your shower.”

“Oh Brian, no, I can manage on my own, really…”, Freddie tries to protest in a whining tone but Brian´s not having it. 

“Freddie, this is not up for discussion! You either let me come with you and help you shower so I can make sure you´re not falling unconscious in there, splitting your head open on the faucet and dying on me or you´ll stay smelly without a shower. These are your two options, end of discussion.”, Brian says firmly and when Freddie frowns at him as if he´s starts to prepare himself for a full-on argument or worse, one of his recent temper tantrums. 

But then, a grin starts to manifest on Freddie´s features and he takes a hold of Brian´s arm, slowly standing up. 

“Oh, here I got a free demonstration of your Daddy Brian voice.”, he says and waggles his eyebrows at Brian, “Your children must be very well behaved if you talk to them like this when they are being naughty.”

Brian rolls his eyes at him and Freddie giggles, hiding the fact that he clings onto Brian´s arm quite tightly, his steps still unsteady and slow. 

“Alright darling, take me to the bathroom then!”

It should be a lot more awkward, Brian helping Freddie take off the bathrobe, watching him strip off his underwear and then climb into the bathtub, but then they´ve known each other for more than a decade and just about anything feels natural and comfortable to them by now. 

“Nice and slow…”, Brian tuts, as Freddie´s gotten into the bathtub, grabbing the showerhead, and turning on the water, wanting to grab one of the small hotel brand shower gel containers on the side of the tub. 

“Oh, vanilla and shea butter smell…”, Freddie tries to read from the small container, squinting his eyes and not really paying attention to keeping his balance properly anymore and Brian wants to say something but then Freddie almost slips. Brian quickly grabs onto him again. 

Freddie just giggles, his voice echoing from the expensive, crème-coloured tiles on the walls. 

“Fred, careful…”, Brian groans, noticing that Freddie seems slightly disoriented and dazed again. 

“Sorry…it´s a little slippery in here…”, Freddie chimes and smiles at Brian. 

“Why don´t you…?”, Brian suggests, nodding down towards the floor of the bathtub and Freddie seems to understand and lets Brian guide him into a seated position. 

“There we go…”, Brian says softly and takes the shower head from Freddie, who lets go of it a little reluctantly. 

“I´ll give you a hand, yeah?”, Brian suggests and Freddie huffs again and there´s a last stroppy glimpse of resistance in his dark eyes, a bit of last nights kohl pencil smudged around them and then he throws back his head with a dramatic eye-roll before he seems to think that he´s made enough of a fuss about not wanting Brian´s help to accept it in the end. 

“Well, if you must, Brian.”, he sighs and Brian kneels down in front of the tub so he´s on the same level as his friend.

For a moment, Brian´s not really sure how to go about it. Of course he´s bathed his little son James countless times and of course he´s been in the bathtub with Chrissie, although there had never been much washing involved. But this, a grown and very groggy man sitting in the bathtub in front of him, is entirely new to Brian. 

He decides to go about it methodically, carefully rinsing over Freddie´s arms, and torso with the shower head and then grabbing the shower gel, squeezing some of it onto a flannel, lathering it up and washing Freddie´s skin. 

It´s a bit weird washing his armpits and touching him in a way that is simply practical but Freddie seems to enjoy it just fine and Brian´s glad that he´s gotten him to sit down because the singer already seems a little tired again. 

“Is that alright? Water´s nice and warm?”, he asks, simply to fill the sudden silence that has emerged between them. 

“Yeah…”, the Persian murmurs softly. 

He gives a pleased little hum and closes his eyes when Brian runs the stream from the shower head over the back of his head, starting to wash his hair. 

“There we go, that´s nice isn´t it?”, Brian asks, a little smile tugging at the edge of his mouth as he places a hand over Freddie´s forehead to shield his face from the water. 

“Yeah…”, Freddie hums and then cracks an eye open at Brian, a small smile spreading on his lips, his front teeth peeking out, “I prefer baths though…”

Brian smiles at him and gives a defeated little sigh. 

Still Freddie goes oddly quiet when Brian runs the flannel over his thighs and down to his knees. The minute the guitarist notices his friend´s sudden change in demeanour, he notices his mistake. He´s so used to helping someone shower being an innocent business that he didn´t even think about Freddie not being comfortable with it. 

And he now comes to regret it as he notices a sliver of fear inside the singer´s eyes, a hint of skittishness. He´s watching Brian´s every move, the way the guitarist methodically rinses off his thighs and legs, intently not touching anywhere near the singer´s crotch. 

Freddie just sits there, stiff and motionless and Brian can tell that the other man is scared. There´s just no other way to put it and it breaks Brian´s heart. Because it reminds him of that moment just hours ago when he wanted to help the singer take off his clothes and Freddie had reacted in the same way, with fear, panic even. 

Brian asks himself what Freddie is scared of. Does he really fear that Brian might touch him in a way that he would not be comfortable with, take advantage of his vulnerability?

The thought stings painfully and he feels ashamed of himself, his head and heart heavy with the realisations that maybe, just maybe there´s more than experiences long gone to Freddie´s fear. 

Maybe it is directly linked towards him and the way he has behaved towards the other man in the past weeks. Selfish, cruel and unkind. Brian hates himself more and more when he recalls the coldness of his actions. 

And still, Freddie is here, with him, trusting him time and time again, despite everything, despite all of the times that Brian has done him so very wrong. And that probably is what breaks Brian´s heart even more. 

How on earth did he deserve this man, this lovely, beautiful, darling man, who looks up at Brian with big, brown eyes and hides his fear and pain behind a small, shy smile. 

“Just gonna give your hair a wash, if that´s alright?”, Brian asks softly and Freddie nods 

The Persian closes his eyes again and enjoys, giving soft little hums when Brian starts to run his fingers through his thick, dark hair, watching it curl under the moisture. 

He reaches for the shampoo, a bottle he´s brought from back home, and starts squeezing some of it onto his palm. 

“What kind of shampoo is that?”, Freddie asks suspiciously and takes the container from Brian to read the writing on it, “For glossy curls…Brimi, that´s going to make my hair go crazy.”, he complains but Brian´s already busy lathering up the singer´s hair. 

“I love your hair when it´s all wavy and curly…”, he replies with a smile because it´s true. He remembers when a few years back, Freddie´s hair had been a little longer and after shows, the previously straightened locks had turned into tight little curls, much to the singer´s dismay. 

“Yeah but I don´t!”, Freddie complains but he still lets Brian wash his hair with it. 

When he´s done, he helps Freddie out of the tub and then Freddie shoos him out for some privacy. When he´s out of the bathroom Brian hands Freddie some of his own clothes, a t-shirt and some joggers and he can´t help but like the look of them on the other man, the way it makes Freddie feel like he´s his. 

Brian goes for a shower as well and when he returns, he finds Freddie asleep again, late afternoon gloomily settling over the streets outside of the hotel window, a foggy autumn night descending onto Munich. 

Brian slips into bed behind him and snuggles up to Freddie, nuzzling his face into the other man´s neck, which makes Freddie turn around in his arms, now facing him, slowly blinking up at Brian and then giving him a small, tired smile. 

Brian is about to say something and it´s probably something foolish and ridiculously soft but then Freddie just snuggles up to his chest like a small, wounded birds and sighs, so very content in Brian´s arms. 

Soon after, he hears Freddie´s breathing get deeper, softer and let´s himself be lulled into another light dozing state. 

He feels content and safe and sleep comes easy. 

Brian wakes when he feels clever and nimble fingers on him, trying to pull down the waistband of his boxers. It´s dark in the room and Brian can feel the tingle of a warm breath ghosting over the naked skin of his lower belly. 

His brain needs a second to catch up with it all, but then he notices that Freddie´s not in his arms anymore and that there are plush lips kissing his hip bone with an edge of slightly protruding front teeth.

“What are you doing?”, he asks groggily, pulling away the duvet to reveal a wild haired Freddie, who was just about to take care of the half-mast erection Brian is sporting in his boxers. 

The singer smiles at him, eyes hooded, lips shimmering wetly and pressed another kiss to Brian´s prominent hip-bone before he answers. 

“Repaying you…for taking such good care of me when I wasn´t well, darling…”

He leans closer again, pulling the waistband of Brian´s underwear further down and pressing his nose into the light brown pubic hair that grows on the newly exposed skin, inhaling the musky scent with a sigh. Brian´s dick twitches at the sound, the sensation of the Persian´s breath ghosting over the root of his cock making him shiver. 

But his mind has an objection to make because for all the appeal of just letting Freddie give him a nice, slow blowjob, he knows that just about every single reason he would do it for, is not right. 

“Freddie…”, he groans, placing a hand on the singer´s shoulder and pushing him upward, to which his friend replies with an annoyed little sigh. 

“Come on, Brian…I know you want to…”, he says in a playful little sing-song voice and starts rubbing his scruffy cheek against the growing bulge in Brian´s boxers like a large and very clingy cat. 

“Freddie…you really don´t have to…”, Brian protests, but the singer now starts pulling down Brian´s boxers for good and begins to nose at the root of Brian´s swelling cock again, which makes Brian groan involuntarily. 

God, this feels really nice. And he knows that it would feel even nicer if he´d let Freddie simply do his thing, work his magic and start with those delicious kitten-like licks at the tip until he would close his plush lips around the head to suck, take him into his mouth and hollow out his cheeks, take him in deeper and deeper. 

But then Brian remembers his previous thoughts in the bathroom, how Freddie trusts him, how he wants things to change and how this is simply not the direction in which he wants this, them, to head.  
“Fred, stop…”, he manages to groan and it´s hard, fuck it´s so hard, because Freddie starts mouthing at his balls but then Brian works up the will to speak up again. 

“Freddie, stop it, I´m not in the mood!”, his mouth quick-fires and it works wonders. Freddie raises his head and looks at Brian like a puppy who has just been kicked. 

Brian knows he´s hit a sore spot because if there´s one thing that Freddie prides himself with, then it´s being a good lover, someone who´s fun, someone who knows how to satisfy a man, someone to make you forget your name and moan his because he´s just that good. 

Brian knows that it´s time for some damage control. 

“I´d much rather stay all nice and cuddled up with you…”, he explains, while he tucks his half-hard dick back into his boxers and pulls them up again, sitting up a little. 

Freddie rolls his eyes and sighs, slumping down and resting his cheek against Brian´s naked thigh. 

“God, I´m sorry darling but that´s…”, he huffs again and plays around with the hem of one of the legs of Brian´s boxers, “…boring as fuck…”

“Freddie, it might have escaped your memory, but you were puking your brain´s out just a few hours ago. You need to rest.”, Brian says, trying to stay as calm as possible. 

Freddie sits up as well, brows furrowed and Brian can tell right from the start that he´s in one of his moods again. The singer simply hates being told no and it doesn´t happen very often because people fear his temper. 

“Oh, so now this is about me, yeah?”, he snaps at Brian. 

“Of course this is about you, Fred! You´ve been really unwell, I was worried about you.”, Brian explains but Freddie just gives him a smug smile and shakes his head. 

“No no, that´s not what you said, Brian dear.”

“I beg your pardon?”, Brian asks and senses that this is one of the singer´s mind-games, one of his tries to twist every word in Brian´s mouth and use it to his advantage, turning it all into a petty argument about who said what, much like the ones they often have at the studio. 

“You said you´re not in the mood…”, Freddie says slowly with a childish pout that makes Brian feel anger rising inside the pit of his stomach. 

He takes a long deep breath to calm himself down. 

“I just said that to make you stop…”, he explains and then adds, “…because you need to rest, Freddie. Come back here, I´ll order us something to eat. You must be starving, you only had that tiny bit of soup.”

But Freddie´s not in the mood to cooperate. 

“I´m not hungry.”, the singer snaps, arms crossed in front of his chest, pouting at Brian, chin up and eyes not looking at him, almost seeming like a parody of a spoiled, naughty boy asking for sweets at the dinner table instead of eating his dinner. 

Brian feels himself getting worked up about it. Because just like he knows which buttons to push, the singer does the same with him. He knows that Brian hates it when he´s like this, hates it when he´s stroppy and unresponsive to any kind of well-meant advice. 

“Freddie, don´t behave like a spoiled brat! You really need to listen to your body better, nourish it, stop hurting yourself by not taking proper care of it, it´s horrible to watch…”, he says in a harsh voice, but Freddie just raises his eyebrows and then smiles at him in a way that´s wicked and winning and Brian knows that his next words will mean trouble. 

“Punish me then…”, the Persian whispers softly, all fluttering lashes and soft, sultry lips. 

“What?”, Brian gapes at him, not even sure if he´s heard the other man correctly. 

Freddie just keeps on smiling and inches closer. 

“You just called me a spoiled brat…punish me then…”, he whispers and his hands are now back on Brian´s thigs, touching and teasing, directly running over the bulge in his boxers. 

“Show me how to be good…show me how to be your good boy, Brian…”, he says in a husky voice and the smile on his lips dies down and turns into an expression of obedience and sultriness, “I want to be your good boy…”, he purrs and it makes the hairs on Brian´s neck stand on edge. 

Freddie´s hand is about to slip under the waistband of Brian´s boxers again but the guitarist quickly grabs the singer´s wrist to keep him from moving. 

“Freddie, can you not think about sex for one fucking second?! Can you pull yourself together for once?”, Brian hisses at him in sheer panic, struggling to cope with the situation. 

“Why are you angry with me?”, Freddie purrs at him and Brian feels his stomach clenching with rage.

“Because your behaving like…like a stupid tart…offering yourself to me like that! You don´t have to do this, Freddie!”, he almost shouts the words, panic making his voice break, but Freddie seems unimpressed. 

“I know you want me…”, he whispers and then his other hand is on Brian´s boxers again, unashamedly pressing down against the outline of Brian´s cock, which makes the guitarist hiss, “You might hate it, but I know you do want me right now…”

“No, I fucking don´t, Fred!”, Brian groans, squeezing his eyes shut, tightening his hold into the other man´s wrist until Freddie breathes in sharply with pain. 

“Yes you do…”, the Persian hisses at him, “Liar…”, Freddie starts pressing the heel of his hand into Brian´s bulge, “I can feel your hard cock…it´s fucking…pulsing…oh fuck, Brian…”, he moans. 

“Stop this shit!”, Brian shouts and tries taking a hold of Freddie´s other hand, but it´s too difficult and Freddie´s slight and quick. 

“Stop it…”, Brian groans, when Freddie grabs his dick through the material of his boxers, “Stop touching me!”

But then Freddie sneaks his hand inside of Brian´s boxers and there´s his small, clever palm and his nimble fingers closing around his cock and Brian feels it coming again, a kind of white mist descending on his thoughts. He feels himself losing control, feels that tingle inside of his limbs, tension rising and there´s the urge to grab, to push, to hold down, to claim the man in front of him.

“Oh shit…Freddie…”, he groans, face twisted like he´s in pain and Freddie chuckles, a winning, eager little sound that drives Brian nuts. 

He roughly grabs Freddie by his upper arms and then pushes him down while he flips them around, ramming the Persian into the mattress while he´s on top of him. 

Freddie gives a little shriek of surprise and as soon as Brian pins him down by the wrists and pushes his body flush against his, the singer keens. 

“Please…please Brian…”, he positively whimpers and the small, sweet sound makes Brian push him down even harder. He feels his pulse hammering in his throat, rage and lust building up a toxic cocktail inside of his overstimulated mind. 

Brian grinds down against the man under him, wedges his knee between Freddie´s skinny legs and pushes, thrusts his hips against the singer´s thigh. 

“Yes…fuck Brian…”, Freddie moans, head thrown back into the pillow behind him and rubs himself against the guitarist, his body withering with the desire to please. 

Brian´s hands are shaking with lust when he lets go of Freddie wrists and quickly pushes up the singer´s shirt, licking and biting at his chest, teeth grazing one of the Persian´s nipples, which makes Freddie let out an obscene moan, as Brian licks and then pinches and rubs the little nub of flesh, while he takes off the singer´s t-shirt. 

Freddie starts pushing at his clothes and it´s frantic and messy, harsh breathing against skin, grabbing and pulling and suddenly, they´re both naked. 

Freddie spreads his legs and lets Brian fall between them, he spits into his hand and reaches for Brian´s now achingly hard cock, slicking him up and tossing him off at the same time. 

Brian feels like he´s in a trance as he slaps Freddie hand away when he feels like he´s sufficiently prepared. There´s no time for teasing Freddie open with his fingers, he´s got no condom on but the thought is exhilarating to him. 

Freddie gives a strangled moan when Brian´s lips start attacking his neck, hooks his legs around Brian´s hips, pulls him in and then the tip of Brian´s cock is already pushing against the singer´s entrance, making him whimper, squirm, inch closer, breathing heavily into Brian´s ear and Brian´s about to thrust forward…but then he stops. 

Cold sweat starts dampening his forehead and shoulder blades and he feels himself shaking, gasping for breath as all mad rush and lustful, violent desire seems to leave him. He looks down at Freddie, his flushed, sweaty face and into those dark, hopeful eyes, so accepting, so obedient and sweet and Brian suddenly realizes what he had once again been about to do. 

“I can´t…I can´t fucking do it…”, he presses out from his shaking lips, voice breaking, throat tight, “I can´t go on hurting you like this…”

Freddie looks at him with growing unrest and confusion, tries to hold onto him when Brian starts pulling away. The guitarist feels himself getting lost in his own thoughts, last night´s memory of Freddie, half-passed out on the bed, begging him not to touch him, scared of him, just a few hours ago. 

He has become the abuser. He has become one of the men he had hates for so many years. 

“No…No you´re not hurting me, Brian!”, Freddie´s quick to say, snapping him out of his thoughts and the singer clings onto Brian´s shoulders, “Please Brian…please just fuck me…please…”, he pleads and it breaks Brian´s heart because he knows that Freddie shouldn´t be begging him for this. 

There it is once again, the feeling of being a failure, a disappointment, nothing but a nuisance to the people around him. 

But he knows that Freddie deserves better, better than another rage fuelled fuck, another one of Brian´s outbursts of violent emotions and physical depravity. 

Brian´s shaking now and to his utter shock, he feels his vision getting blurry, while he heaves for breath. 

“I can´t…”, he sobs, “I can´t fucking do this anymore…”

He feels like hiding, like pulling the duvet up to his chin to cover himself, suddenly very uncomfortable with his nakedness. 

“Brian…”, Freddie says in a voice so soft, so kind that the guitarist feels himself hiccupping another sob, squeezing his eyes shut in a sudden burst of anger directed at himself. 

How could he have allowed any of this to go this far? How had they come to this, Freddie begging him for only a little bit of intimacy, of physical contact while he´s unable to give it? 

“I´m sorry, Freddie…I´m so sorry…I´m sorry for treating you this way…”, Brian stammers, shying away from the comforting touches of Freddie´s hand on his skin. 

The singer´s eyes are full of sadness, full of pain and guilt and Brian wants to scream at him to tell him that it´s not his fault, that he shouldn´t be feeling like this, that he deserves better. 

“No…Brimi, no, don´t cry…don´t…don´t cry, please! It´s all my fault! It´s me who keeps asking these things of you!”, Freddie stammers, sitting in front of Brian, his clammy handy now holding on to the guitarist´s upper arms. 

“You know that´s not true…It´s me who keeps on hurting you…”, Brian says quietly, while he holds the singer´s gaze. 

“No, you´re not hurting me!”, Freddie says quickly and with a brave but slightly wobbly smile that poorly conceals the lie, “This is how I want it…how I like it…”

“Freddie, fucking hell, can you stop lying to yourself for one fucking second!”, Brian suddenly screams at the man in front of him and watches Freddie flinch at his harsh tone.

“Do you really think this…”, Brian gestures between him and Freddie, „This fucked up shit is what you want…what you need?!” 

Brian sees the hurt in Freddie´s eyes, the way he gives a soft little sniffle and lowers his gaze, beaten down and ashamed. 

“This is…wrong, okay? This is not what any kind of…relations-…friendship…any kind of…human interaction… should be like!”, Brian continues, still shaking with rage and fear and all the pressure that has built up on him in the past weeks. 

Freddie swallows thickly and sniffles again, hands folded in his lap. Then he slowly raises his head, looking up at Brian. 

“Well…I´m in love with you, you know…”, the singer says quietly, softly, his lower lip wobbling, his eyes full of hurt, tears shimmering inside of them. 

Brian´s immediate defence mechanism is disbelief. This can´t be true because if it is, he could never forgive himself for the hurt he has caused his friend, for the way he has mistreated him.  
No, this must be another one of the singer´s games! Another one of his tries to manipulate Brian into getting his way, another one of his lies!

“Fred…”, Brian sighs quietly, almost sounding annoyed. 

“It´s true…I´ve been in love with you for quite a while now…”, Freddie says softly and there´s such a tenderness inside of his voice, that Brian raises his head and studies the other man´s flushed face for any signs of not telling the truth. 

But he doesn´t find any. Freddie looks him dead in the eye, shows him all of his pain, all the vulnerable, hurting parts of his soul with a single glance. 

“How long?”, Brian asks, his voice slightly hoarse from shouting.

“A while…”, Freddie simply replies and Brian feels anger rising inside of the pit of his stomach again. 

“That´s not true!”, he hisses. 

“Yes it is!”, Freddie replies and looks angry now, shaking with agitation. 

“No it´s not! This is just something you´re making up in your head!”, Brian says loudly and Freddie narrows his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his slim chest. 

“How would you know, Brian? It´s not as if you´d care anyways!”, Freddie snaps at him and even though Brian should see the singer´s words as nothing but a forced provocation, they hurt him. 

“Of course I care! Of course I do, Freddie!”, he says loudly, but Freddie just scoffs and shakes his head. 

“No you don´t! You said so yourself!”, he snaps and Brian feels dread rising in the pit of his stomach, as he realises what the other man is hinting at. He remembers they fight they had had just a week ago, the absolute mess, the insults and Freddie, lonely and vulnerable, looking at Brian with dark, sad eyes as he left him, as he stormed out of the room to simply get away from it all. 

“That´s not what I s-…!”, he murmurs but Freddie´s not having it. 

“Yes it is, Brian! I asked you if you really didn´t care…not even a tiny bit…and you…”, his eyes start watering again and for all his usual crocodile tears and dramatic sobs, Brian knows that this time, it´s real sadness and hurt displayed on the other man´s features, “You just left…and phoned your lovely wife and your beautiful children to pretend that it´s all fine and dandy and…”

“Stop dragging Chrissie into this, Fred!”, Brian says harshly, but Freddie just sniffles and rubs a hand over his red and teary eyes. 

“I´m not…I´m not dragging her…I´m just…fucking jealous of her, is all…”, he murmurs, “I´m fucking jealous of her being your wife and having your children and living in a beautiful house with you and getting to love you and care for you every day…”

Brian stays quiet, listening to the singer´s words, his previous rage slowly dying down. He suddenly feels very, very sorry and very, very stupid for not seeing it coming, for allowing it to get this far.  
“God Fred, I don´t know what to say to that…”, he murmurs and Freddie visibly squirms at his words. 

“Don´t say anything…it´s embarrassing enough as it is…”, he whispers and looks down onto the sheets of the bed, seeming positively miserable. 

Brian´s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, searching for words that would comfort his friend without seeming patronising. 

“I…I wish I were a woman so I could…give you all of those things…”, Freddie suddenly says quietly and looks back up at Brian, “I´d be the perfect wife, Brian. I´d cook and I´d clean…”

From anyone else´s mouth, the words would have seemed odd, slightly worrying even. But then it´s Freddie talking to him and maybe Brian´s struggling so much to come to terms with the situation, that his only coping mechanism is to smile and play along with Freddie´s little fantasy. 

“Would you really?”, he asks with a small chuckle and the singer nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah…”

“But you hate cooking and cleaning, love.”, Brian says with a tender smile. The sudden determination in the Persian´s dark eyes seems touching to him. 

“I´d do it for you, darling. I´d keep the house spotless, make it all nice and cosy for you when you come home at night, cook you dinner, some of that vegetarian lasagne you love so much, or risotto, pasta, maybe even some of the stuff my mum always makes, like a curry or something…”, he explains and there´s a hopeful shimmer inside in his eyes and a content smile on his lips. 

“Sounds lovely, Fred…”, Brian simply says. He scoots over, now sitting next to Freddie and leaning his back against the headboard of the bed, sitting a little more comfortably. He´s indecisive of what to do, knows that they should not be talking about such things. 

“It does, doesn´t it?”, Freddie sighs and leans his back against the headboard as well. 

“And I´d support you…with work…or when you´re feeling down…I´d take good care of you, Brian.”, he adds, looking into Brian´s eyes, such warmth and tenderness in his gaze, that Brian feels his heart ache.

For a second, he allows himself the sentiment of imagining it, this life with Freddie, their shared home, a vision so impossibly absurd but still so whimsical and charming. Sunday mornings in bed, sleeping in and getting woken up by rays of sunlight tickling his nose and Freddie kissing him awake. Sitting around the dinner table with the children, Louisa happily bouncing on Freddie´s leg while Jason tells Brian about his day at nursery. 

He´s horrified at how comfortable it feels, at how easy it is to lose himself in the fantasy, to lose touch with their harsh reality. 

They´re not a family, heck, they´re not even a couple. This is nothing but a silly affair, born out of their shared misery and emotional instability, darkness being drawn towards darkness.  
In this moment, Brian knows that there´s only one logical step he has to take. 

“Freddie…we need to stop this.”, he says and musters up the strength to speak clearly and in a neutral tone. 

“Alright, I´ll stop, sorry.”, Freddie replies, his thoughts probably still lingering on the small fantasy of their shared life. 

Brian shakes his head.  
“No Fred…this…we need to end things…”, he explains, hesitant almost to say it because he expects more tears, more shouting, one of Freddie´s full-on outbursts of sadness and anger. 

But it doesn´t come. 

“I…I know…”, the singer says instead, his voice quiet. 

Brian can´t quite believe it and feels the need to explain, to make Freddie understand, even though it seems as though his friend has long seen it coming. 

“It´s better that way, Fred, you know it…I know it...it´s the right thing to do…”, Brian stammers, stumbling over the words.

“Yeah…yeah I know…I…you´re probably right.”, Freddie replies and it´s only now that he allows Brian to see the a sliver of emotion on his features, sadness and pain shimmering inside of his eyes, but he rapidly blinks against them. 

“We´re still going to be friends, Fred.”, Brian says quickly and he means it, he really does. 

“Yes.”, Freddie whispers and smiles weakly. 

Brian knows that he shouldn´t, but he simply can´t help himself, tuns towards the singer and places both hands on his shoulders. 

“I´m not going to leave you, do you hear me? I´m still going to be there, if you need me…”, Brian says, shaking with emotion, feeling his throat getting tighter. 

“Okay…”, Freddie murmurs and meets Brian´s gaze and suddenly, the guitarist feels the incredibly strong urge to lean in, to capture the other man´s lips in a kiss. 

He knows that it´s one of the worst gestures one can choose after what should be a break up, a definite end to this madness, to their continuous cycle of hurting one another. 

But then Freddie leans in and suddenly their lips are touching and it´s tender and soft and warm, Freddie´s hands gently caressing the back of his neck and his hands on the singer´s shoulders. 

There´s no aggression to their gentle touch, no agenda or plan to take things further, just Freddie´s plush lips and he kisses Brian like they´re nothing but two innocent school boys and not two grown man, sitting naked in the rumpled sheets of a bed in a hotel room after another nasty fight. 

Brian´s lost count of the passing of time, but at one point, Freddie pulls away, lips tucked over his front teeth, lashes fluttering. 

“I should get back to my room.”, he simply says and Brian nods. 

He watches Freddie get up from the bed, this time much more steady on his feet, getting dressed back into his clothes from the previous night. 

“See you tomorrow at the studio.”, Freddie says, hovering in front of the bed. 

“Ten o´clock.”, Brian says, imitating their usual playful tone, but he´s failing at it. 

“Ten o´clock.”, Freddie repeats and then, after a second of hesitation, leans in once more and kisses Brian on the cheek. “Thank you, darling. For everything…”, he whispering, his lips grazing Brian´s skin.  
Then he draws back, gives Brian one more wobbly smiles and leaves. 

Brian listens to the closing of the door and then the singer´s steps, fading into the distance. It´s suddenly very quiet inside the room. 

How ironic, he thinks with a sad smile. He now is in the same positions that Freddie had been just a week ago, sitting naked in bed, while the other man leaves. 

It´s painful and he knows that in the following hours, it will slowly sink in. He had just ended things with Freddie. 

Now, it was back to being friends. Just friends, Brian thinks and a bitter smile starts to spread on his lips. 

God, he´s always been terrible at telling a convincing lie.


	5. Walk The Streets For Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks,  
> welcome to the next chapter! I´ve had a lovely vacation at the seaside with lot´s of relaxation and very little writing but now I´m back! This chapter was super fun to write because it is set around Christmas time and I looooove Christmas. Also, we will see Freddie and Brian´s relationship once again change as our favourite guitarist starts (it´s still a long way though) to come to terms with the fact that it is very hard to run from your true feelings. Also...some much needed tender, cuddly fluff, don´t know about you, but gentle, sweet Maycury is my weakness and I´ve missed writing it!  
> Anyways, my darlings, enjoy!

In the weeks to come, Brian watches Freddie go through so many guys that he loses count of who his friend even seeing at the moment.

In the past, the singer had been discreet about it, had barely allowed his bandmates a glimpse of whomever he spent the night with or, on rare occasions, was calling his boyfriend.

Freddie hated the way Roger would tell him that no boyfriend should leave him with bruises all over his body and bloodshot eyes, hated the way Brian and John would shoot each other knowing glances whenever he was irritated and tired. 

The way his bandmates used to tell him that those kinds of relationships weren´t good for him seemed to have hurt him, made him feel patronized. But not anymore.  
To Brian, it seems as though Freddie simply doesn´t care anymore. 

Yes, it´s toxic. Yes, it´s not good for me. Yes, I try to fill some kind of void with these meaningless relationships. Now get over it!, he seems to scream in their faces every time he came to the studio with bruises. 

Brian knows that it´s pathetic to think that Freddie´s doing this because of him, that he´s the cause for the way the Persian tries to distract himself. Still, it´s what he thinks lies at the root of the problem.  
Freddie parades these guys around like they´re trophies. 

He brings them to the studio and lets them wait around in the lobby, where they lazily flick through German magazines, chain-smoke and get moodier by the hour. He has massive shouting matches with them, English and German all jumbles together, until the guys call him an Arschloch or a Scheißkerl and leave, only to be back the next day and to sneak off to one of the toilets, where they seem to absolutely shag Freddie´s brains out. Which he of course, seems to enjoy immensely. 

They are beefy, moustached, broad-shouldered and loud mouthed. They are angry at the world for having to stay in the closet and angry at themselves for being gay, internalised homophobia crippling every inch of self-awareness that had once been there. They are violent, intense, a quick fuck, a nasty fight, a slap to Freddie´s check, their company addictive and toxic and right what Freddie seems to crave right now. 

Prenter´s still around, still patrolling Freddie´s side like a hungry dog, even though the singer seems to have banned him from his bed. Still, Freddie still seems to go out with him, losing himself in everything that Munich has to over and returning to the studio the next morning, bearing the battle scars of last night´s adventures, hickeys on his neck and nostrils red and irritated from snorting coke. 

And through all of it, Brian´s damned to watch. Because this is what he´s decided for the both of them. This is what´s right, a way to reverse, to undo what had happened between them. 

And even though Brian knows, lets his mind tell him that it´s right, to stay away, his bleeding heart is screaming and throbbing and hurting so violently, that it sometimes feels as if he can´t breathe.  
Brian hopes that it will pass, that the mania will go away and fade into his usual drowsy numbness. 

But it doesn´t. 

The wound doesn´t heal, no matter how many times he stays up late and walks through the clear-skied December night, letting the cold bite into his cheeks and hands to counteract the pain, lingering in the dark corners on the streets, passing by the clubs and the bars he knows Freddie is at. 

It doesn´t go away, no matter how little he eats, no matter how many times he skips dinner and then breakfast, simply because he´s too tired, too exhausted to even hold up a fork. 

It doesn´t go away, no matter how numb he feels, no matter how deeply he falls into the darkness, lets it consume him, burrys himself in it, loses himself, feels himself fizzling away, a shadow of the man he used to be. 

Brian knows that it´s bad but he feels himself growing too weak to do anything about it. He finds it harder and harder to keep up the show, to put on the face of the kind, understanding and mediating man he had once been, on every morning, to go to the studio and work on the album that he feels less and less passionate about. 

Sure, put in another set of synthesizers and alright, we can cut that guitar riff for another little piece with the drum machine. 

He´s simply too tired to fight them by now, retreating back into his shell, while Freddie and Roger snarl and hiss and fight each other like stubborn children and John keeps looking at him with those grey eyes, like he knows, he just knows that something is wrong with Brian. 

It´s not just the situation with Freddie, the way Brian has to watch him go out with all these men, the way they are tense and nervous with each other, the way that all trust and flair of easiness seems gone forever. 

It´s the album as well, the way Brian seems to lose his passion for making music, for writing songs and playing his guitar, his fingers clumsy and slow on the strings. 

It´s the way the nights seem so long and so cold and he´s alone, so fucking alone, even when he´s around his bandmates, even when he´s on the phone to Chrissie and the children, telling them how he´s counting down the days until they´ll see each other again. 

And even though he knows that admitting to it could already be his downfall, he knows that deep down in his heart, he misses Freddie. Not just as a friend, the way they were before this whole mess had started, before he came and fucked it all up by using the singer´s insecurity and fondness of him to satisfy his needs. 

He also misses having him in his room, keeps thinking back to that night, the one where he took Freddie back to the hotel after the party and took care of him, when the singer slept in his arms so peacefully, when he washed Freddie´s hair and fed him Hühnerbrühe. Because it felt good and it felt right and Brian wants it, craves it. But he knows he can´t have it. 

And so he feels like having a break from it all, from Queen, from Munich, from Freddie´s constant presence, would do him good. 

They all have decided to go home for Christmas and New Year´s, all of them except for Freddie, who´s adamant about staying behind in Munich, to celebrate with his friends there. 

Brian knows that going home should be a comfort to him, something he´s looking forward to, something he should be thankful for and excited about. Spending the holidays with his loving wife and his wonderful children, getting to just be around them, holding Chrissie in his arms again and playing with little Jason and baby Louisa. 

A happy family under the Christmas tree, delicious food and festive spirit, cosy nights in, singing Christmas carols together, everything being lovely and happy and just fine. 

But in reality, he´s dreading it. The thought of having to try and pretend even harder makes his stomach turn with nervousness, makes his teeth shatter with fear and takes away the little hours of sleep he had left. But he owes this to his family, to his wife and children, to be a supportive and loving husband, a sweet and caring father to his children. He has to do this, has to try and cope. 

His family deserves better, deserves all he´s able to give them and more. So Brian goes out and panic-buys way too many Christmas gifts that he´s sure he will struggle to fit into his suitcase. 

In the two weeks leading up to Christmas, Freddie and him manage to reach a slightly more friendly terrain. The constant disagreements in the studio don´t succumb, but they slowly seem to warm up to one another again, at least a little bit. 

Freddie´s less skittish around him, he doesn´t immediately avert his gaze, whenever they look at each other and Brian tries to even muster up a smile every once in a while, when they talk over lunch, given the rare occasion that Freddie eats with them and doesn´t dash off with some Franz or Hans or Rudi to a fancy restaurant only to come back looking either positively railed, probably in the back of some ominous car, or frustrated with another unnecessary fight he had had with his so called boyfriends. 

Brian tries to seem calm and in control, makes an extra effort to not space out and be present in the moment when he´s around Freddie, to give off an air of comfortable familiarity that doesn´t seem intrusive and it seems to work. 

What it is doing to Brian´s mental health to pretend to be okay when he´s falling apart is a different kind of issue and sometimes, he´s pretty sure that Freddie can tell. 

But then they don´t really talk in private anymore, so they keep up the spiel of friendly banter and the occasional disagreement in the studio and it seems to work just fine. 

Still, Brian´s quite surprised when Freddie agrees to join them as Roger suggests going to the Christkindlmarkt together on the weekend before they leave for home. 

“You sure you can keep all your hot-blooded lover boys waiting for a night?”, the drummer teases as they pack up their gear on that evening to head off into town. 

“Well, they´re all gentleman, so of course they´ll wait. Patiently.”, Freddie replies smugly. 

They take a taxi into the inner-city circle and get dropped off at Sendlinger Tor. It´s cold, close to zero and Brian´s thankful for the cloves Chrissie has packed him back in May. Roger keeps teasing John about a woollen hat Veronica has sent him and which she has knitted herself and while it looks a little big and also quite forest green on John´s head, Brian reckons that Roger is more likely to be jealous of it, since his ears go bright red with the cold. 

“I think the colour brings out Deaky´s beautiful eyes.”, Freddie comes to his rescue and treats them all to some Gluehwein and heisse Maronen. In the next two hours, they ponder along the booths of the Christmas market, drink Gluehwein, eat Vanillekipferl and Stollen and get a little merrier with each mug of mulled wine and pint of beer. 

It´s almost like in the old days. Roger acquires the company of one or two beautiful German ladies, explaining to them the ancient English tradition of kisses under the mistletoe, John keeps cracking the odd joke and seems quite content with his one glass of beer and Freddie keeps bumping into people who, as usual, treat him like royalty and make a big fuss about knowing him. 

Brian´s glad that there´s no fighting, not even bickering and allows himself to get a little drunk on mulled wine and eat a little too many Vanillekipferl. 

It´s cold outside on the streets and at about 8pm it starts snowing lightly, but it´s pleasant and magical and for the first time in weeks, it lifts Brian´s spirits, immensely. 

Suddenly, Freddie´s next to him, cheeks rosy with the cold, eyes sparkling, a little snow shimmering in his short dark hair and Brian feels his heart beat so hard, it´s as if it wants to leap out of his throat and then Freddie smiles at him, one of his shy, charming, toothy little smiles and Brian blushes, simply can´t help it. 

“Oh, I´m really cold…”, the singer murmurs between his shattering teeth and Brian instinctively leans in a little closer. 

“You should have worn a warmer jacket, Fred. This one´s way too thin, you know how cold it gets at night.”, Brian scolds him, eyeing up the black leather jacket Freddie´s is wearing, no scarf, no hat, no gloves and only a thin polo shirt underneath it. 

His gaze falls on the Persian´s hands, the way that they´re frost bitten and red at the finger tips and it´s an instant impulse that lets him take the other man´s hands in his, cradling them and warming them up, blowing his warm breath down onto them. 

Freddie freezes for a second and so does Brian, only now fully coming to terms with the possible intrusiveness of his actions, but then Freddie just grins at him and his smile is contagious. 

“That helping?”, Brian asks, running his woollen-gloved thumbs over the cold back´s of Freddie´s hands, massaging the blood back into them. 

“Yes…thank you, darling.”, Freddie replies and he´s so close now, that Brian can smell the spices in the mulled wine on his breath. There´s such warmth in Freddie´s eyes and as the snow falls down onto the roofs of the booths, Brian hold his friend´s hands even tighter. 

They stay like this for at least two our three minutes and Brian´s sure that Freddie is just as aware as he is, of the fact that this isn´t something they should be doing. Because it is one thing to stay on friendly terms, to talk about mundane, every day things and to work together, simply to keep up the façade, but it´s another to hold hands, because this is essentially what they are doing, and to gaze into each other´s eyes. 

It should be awkward, but it´s not, because no one is paying them much attention and the more Freddie leans in, the less it looks like clumsy hand-holding and more like they´re just talking while standing pretty close. 

“I´ve eaten way too much Marzipan.”, Freddie murmurs after a while and there´s this little glint in his eyes and a small smile on his lips and oh god, Brian´s tipsy and Freddie´s eyes are so god damn beautiful and he´s just so utterly lovely when he smiles at him like that. 

“I think I´m never touching a single a Vanillekipferl again.”, Brian admits and then they both chuckle and even though it´s soft and sweet, it makes them both realise how long they´ve stood like this, silently soaking up each other´s company and Brian let´s go of Freddie´s hands. 

“Here…have my gloves.”, he says, slowly pulling them off and handing them to the Persian. 

“Are you sure. I don´t want you to be cold, dear.”, Freddie objects, but Brian shakes his head and just smiles. 

“It´s okay. My coat has pockets, you know.”, he teases and then shoves his hands into his pockets, just for good measure, which makes them both chuckle again, because it´s a little awkward and just very ‘Brian’ of him, to give a demonstration like that. 

The rest of the night goes on like that and even though Brian has little time to space out or get lost in his own thoughts, he still can´t help but think about their little moment, the way they had so easily fallen back into their habits, into the way they had once been, before the sex and the fights and all the darkness that now loomed over them so constantly. 

Brian´s full on drunk when they get the cap back home, but it´s a pleasant sensation, warm and content and happy, laughing along to Roger´s naughty jokes and Deaky´s even naughtier ones, feeling incredibly happy and thankful to call these three men his best friends. 

Once at the hotel, they all squeeze into the elevator and while Roger gets out at the first and John at the third floor, Brian and Freddie stay behind for the fourth.

It´s suddenly very quiet and the ambient music coming from a small speaker above them does nothing to hide the sudden silence between them. They haven´t been alone, simply just the two of them, in a fortnight and Brian´s suddenly very aware of how they´re standing a little too close. 

His first instinct is to take a polite step back, give an awkward smile and then wait for a few more agonizing moments until the elevator reaches the fourth floor, so they can both get off. But then he makes the mistake of turning his head slightly to the side. 

Freddie´s looking at him in a way that makes Brian´s heartbeat start hammering away in his chest. He feels himself blushing, his brain slowed down by the mulled wine, unable to come up with some kind of witty words that could spare him the shame of showing his still so very present affection for the singer in such an open way. 

“Still got your gloves.”, Freddie suddenly says with a shy little smile and peels them off his fingers. Then he leans in a little more and stuffs them into one of Brian´s coat pockets instead of handing them to him, the gesture strangely intimate. 

Freddie´s fingers linger, then they trace the front of his lapels, playing around with the stitching of one of the buttons. 

“Thank you for letting me have them.”, the singer murmurs but Brian´s already totally lost in the way the mulled wine had stained the Persian´s lips a lovely shade of red and how his cheeks are rosy and oh god, has Freddie always been this beautiful?

“No worries…”, Brian murmurs and notices how Freddie´s now holding onto the lapels of his coat with both hands. 

The elevator gives a little ding and the doors open, but none of them makes a move to get off. Instead, they both lean in a little more. Brian feels warmth pool in the pit of his stomach, feels his nerve ending tingle as his arms loop around Freddie´s slim waist. 

This is a dismissal of every little thing he had worked for so hard in those last two weeks. Keeping his distance, pushing the feelings of loneliness, longing and jealousy aside to try end things, once and for all. 

It is only now that Brian realises that it had always been a lost cause to begin with. His will-power is crumbling under the influence of the mulled wine and the smell of the cold night still lingering onto Freddie´s hair when Brian´s nose grazes the singer´s sideburn. 

Freddie sighs and it´s a sound so sweet, so soft, that Brian feels himself getting weak in the knees. His lips softly touch the cold shell of the Persian´s ear and Freddie raised his head and mouths at the stubble on Brian´s cheek, gently kisses along his jawline, long, dark eyelashes fluttering against Brian´s skin. 

It´s tender and slow, both a little tipsy and still a little cold, seeking warmth and allowing themselves to admit to the fact that there´s no use in pretending anymore, not tonight. 

Freddie presses a kiss to his cheekbone, all chapped lips and warm breath and Brian places a hand under his chin, to turn his head a little. Then he kisses him and god, it feels so good. 

The singer melts into the kiss like there´s nothing else he´s ever wanted this much, like he´s been waiting for it, his lips soft and slightly sticky, tasting of vanilla and spices, his hands sneaking into Brian´s hair while Brian teases his lips open with his tongue and the singer groans and presses himself closer to Brian until their bodies are flush against each other. 

They stay like this for what feels like a small eternity, kissing until their lips feel tender and slightly swollen, making up for all the kisses they had misses in the weeks prior. 

“Brimi…”, Freddie whispers against his lips, as they come up for air again. “Please…can I…”, he stammers but then he stops, nervously biting his lip, giving a soft little sigh, leaning his forehead against Brian´s chin, hesitant to go on. 

Usually, this would lead to one of their teasing little games, a fight for dominance, a sort of power play that Brian would be eager to win, asking Freddie to speak up, pushing him, maybe even humiliating him a little. Because that´s how they worked, that was what their game was. 

But that´s not what tonight is about. Tonight, Brian feels protective of the man in his arms, allows himself to feel this way, his will-power lowered by the mulled wine intake, the festive spirit, the cold of the night or whatever silly reason he can come up with. He wants to care for Freddie, wants him to feel safe and good and happy. Even if it´s just for tonight. 

Because deep down, that´s what he always wanted for Freddie. 

“Do you want to come to my room? Stay the night?”, Brian asks softly and Freddie looks up at him with big, brown eyes and it´s only now that Brian realises that he´s shaking. 

The singer looks conflicted, unsure even and his next words seem like he thinks he needs to explain himself. “I miss you so much, Bri…”

Brian blinks at him, opens his mouth, because there are words lingering at the tip of his tongue. But he knows that they would be selfish and unjust, that it´s not his place to ask Freddie how it´s possible that he misses him and still goes out with a different guy every night and why he´s so withdrawn and quiet around him then. He doesn´t say those words. 

Because he knows that Freddie doesn´t deserve these kinds of cruel cynicisms and jealous accusations. 

Instead, Brian takes Freddie´s still slightly cold hand in his and leads him out of the elevator, along the hallway and towards the door of his room, where he lets them in. 

They stumble into the dark and then for a second, they´re both silent, as Brian debates whether he should turn on the lights but then it kind of feels wrong, because the pale darkness, the way the streetlights shine in through the window, feels comforting right now. 

There isn´t much talk needed after that because they both know how this is going to end. Because they both want it to go like that. But this time, there´s no roughness, no force involved in it. 

“I miss you too…”, Brian whispers in the dark in between their sweet, clumsy kisses, as their hands fumble with zippers and buttons. They take their time, simply because their fingers are still too cold to move quickly and their brains are foggy with the drink. 

Freddie struggles to take off Brian´s thick woollen jumper, getting it stuck on Brian´s head and they giggle and snort as they try to take it off, tumbling into bed once they´re both down to their underwear. 

“Gosh, your feet are so cold…”, Brian murmurs softly, as he carefully takes off Freddie´s socks, which he usually never does, but tonight, it simply feels good to do it, massaging his friend´s clammy toes between his fingers and warming them up. 

“S-sorry…”, Freddie chuckles, sounding slightly nervous, a little unsure of how to react even, but then he gives a soft little hum, his cold skin responding to the touch. Brian slips under the covers and pressed two small smacking kisses to both of Freddie ankles, drunkenly clumsy and utterly adoring and Freddie giggles like mad when Brian rubs his cheek against the thick dark leg hair growing on his calf. 

He traces a line with the tip of his nose, upwards to the inside of Freddie´s knee and the singer sucks in a sharp breath, as Brian kisses the bony joint and wanders upwards, along the strong curve of his thig, towards his hip, thumbs hooking under the waistband of Freddie´s underwear. 

His thoughts are tumbling over each other, wine drunk and giddy as he is and he mouths and breathes down against the growing bulge in the Persian´s briefs, inhaling the musky scent of skin and warmth, making Freddie giggle and groan and wiggle, but then Freddie places his hands onto Brian´s cheeks and pulls him up again, so they´re face to face, diving in for another sweet kiss. 

When they´re both naked, Freddie pulls him down flush, so Brian´s on top of him and then hugs him tightly, legs slung around his hips and Brian pulls up the duvet to their ears so now it´s like a cocoon of warmth and skin and oh god, perfect, absolutely just what he needs right now. 

He goes boneless and heavy and Freddie hums in delight because it´s wonderfully simple and cosy like this. 

“Am I too heavy?”, Brian murmurs into his ear and he feels Freddie shaking his head. 

“No, s´perfect, darling.”, Freddie breathes against his cheek. “You´re perfect… so nice and warm.”, he adds with a little sigh and hugs Brian even tighter. 

From then on, anything else just happens naturally, without them having to think much about it. 

Because as nice as it is to be all snuggled up under the covers like this and to doze off into a tipsy half-sleep, Brian still feels himself growing harder whenever his cock rubs against the soft thick hair growing on Freddie´s belly and he can feel the length of Freddie´s erection against his thigh as well. 

But this time, there´s a gentleness to the way they both naturally fall back into the rhythm of kissing, touching and slowly grinding against each other. Brian makes a dive for the nightstand, gets the lube and condoms he keeps in one of the drawers and puts them down on the sheet right next to them. 

They make a mess with the lube as Brian tries to give Freddie a nice, slow hand job while he fingers him open but the singer laughs much more than he moans. Still, the sound is like music to Brian´s ears and in the end, they get carried away with kissing and just grinding against each other, almost bumping their heads in the dark, Brian´s hair always falling into his eyes. 

It feels so easy and when Brian finally positions himself and then slowly and very carefully pushes into the other man, entering him inch by inch, he feels like this, this night should have been the first night they had slept together. 

Because even though they´re tipsy and it´s dark, there´s an air of tenderness, Freddie soft and trusting and happy under him, allowing Brian to see him, to feel him like this, after all that he has done to him. 

They go slow this time, but it feels amazing. Little by little, they work up a gentle rhythm, sometimes deep, an ebbing, patient back and forth, that knocks the wind out of Brian´s lungs because it seems to push him right to the edge, before he manages to pull himself back at the last second, edging himself on and on while a few minutes later, they go a little faster, shallow and quick, which makes Freddie give those delicious little high-pitches moans because Brian knows he´s hitting just the right spot inside of him. 

Sometimes they stop altogether, Brian buried deep inside the other man, completely still. He feels a little dizzy and not just from the wine, but also with how much he fucking adores Freddie, with how good, how right this feels. 

His orgasm builds up like a massive wave, strong and powerful, visible in the distance from miles away, steadily making its way towards the shores of his consciousness but he still feels like he´s not prepared for it. 

They´re going faster again and Freddie keeps making these wicked little thrusts with his hips, meeting each of Brian´s movements so perfectly but then Brian turns his head and he looks right into Freddie´s huge, dark eyes and sees the way the singer´s pupils dilate as he sneaks a hand in between their bodies and starts jerking himself off in time with Brian´s thrusts. 

It only takes a few more movements of his hand and Brian feels him shiver, his dark eyes focused on Brian´s as he comes with an incredibly soft moan and blushes heavily, even visible in the dark, paradoxically shy in his moment of completion. 

The way his lover´s eyes never leave him drives Brian over the edge. He comes with a groan that´s almost silent, caught in the way Freddie keeps on looking at him as he spills, shivering and shaking, losing himself in the pleasure. 

There´s such an intensity to it, the way their gazes keep locked, that for a second, Brian feels panicked, scared even. But then Freddie takes in a deep breath and gives a tender smile, lashes fluttering as he lets his head sink back into the pillows. 

“Oh darling…”, he sighs and he sounds so vulnerable and lovely and Brian kisses him again, a sweet and tender touch and Freddie practically melts into it, humming with delight. 

Brian pulls out carefully, rolls off the condom and wraps it in a slightly snotty tissue he has accidentally left on the nightstand, then he returns to Freddie, both of them ignoring the mess of lube and cum on their thigs and lower bellies, as the snuggle against each other again. 

Brian is full on riding the post-orgasmic high and craves Freddie´s soothing touch like nothing else. His head comes to rest on Freddie´s chest, while the singer gently runs his finger´s through Brian´s unruly curls. 

He feels safe and content, hearing the steady drum of the Persian´s heartbeat in his ear. He can´t help but ask himself why he previously had such a strong aversion to this, the cuddling and kissing afterwards, why he had denied himself the absolute treat that it is to be held by Freddie and to hold him. 

Deep down, he knows the answer. Because it will make things much, much more complicated. 

“When´s your flight going?”, Freddie asks after a little while of silence. 

“Tomorrow evening, I´ve booked it a little late, should have been on the 9 am one that Deaky and Roger got but it wasn´t available anymore.”, he explains and gives a little sigh, when Freddie´s fingers start running over his naked back, drawing delicate little swirls and patterns. 

“All packed already?”, the singer asks. There are two suitcases standing by the desk near the window, already filled with Brian´s belongings, but there´s still quite a bit of clutter floating around the room, so Freddie´s probably right in asking. 

“Mostly…was quite the struggle to fit all of the presents in…”, he admits with a small smile and lift up his head to look up into the singer´s dark eyes. 

Brian turns a little, so his chin is now resting on Freddie´s breastbone, as the Persian gently brushes a few wild curls away from Brian´s forehead. 

“I can imagine…”, Freddie replies with a warm smile, his thumb gently stroking Brian´s cheek. It´s touching to see how tender, how adoring Freddie is with him if Brian let´s him but it´s also a little frightening, because it´s oh so easy to slip into those patterns himself, unable to keep himself from gently stroking Freddie cheek or pressing a soft kiss onto his shoulder. 

“Are you sure you won´t be lonely…Staying here?”, Brian finally asks. It´s something that has been on his mind ever since Freddie had announced that he´d stay in Munich to celebrate Christmas. 

“I´m sure, Brimi, don´t worry. It´ll be good fun, I´ll be with little Gustav, you remember him, don´t you? And Hans, Rudi, Winfred, Georg and Phoebe of course. We´ll have a jolly old time…although…German Christmas is quite the serious business, I´m telling you.”, he explains with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, illuminated by the warm light of the street light shining in from outside the window. 

“It is?”, Brian asks, sensing already that Freddie´s just joking. 

“Oh yeah! I´ll probably gain about three stone, because they keep forcing me to eat copious amounts of Christmas cookies and Christstollen, you know the weird bread-cake hybrid with the raisins and the ginger bits in it and then they eat so much meat, oh dear, it´s scandalous. And Klösse, of course, dumplings, oh, I don´t like those, they feel like a punch in the stomach once you´ve eaten them.”, the singer muses and gives a soft little sigh as if the promise of Klösse for Christmas dinner is actually quite distressing to him. 

Still, there´s another question lingering on Brian´s mind. He knows that it could cause conflict, destroy their little bubble of harmony and warmth and that maybe it´s not even his place to ask, but he still can´t help himself. 

“What about Prenter?”

After the fiasco of the night out, Brian has seen him around slightly less than before and even though there is no drastic change in Freddie demeanour towards the Irishman, Brian believes to sense a certain kind of cautiousness Freddie is now displaying around Paul, almost as he´s a little apprehensive. 

Freddie gives a little sigh as he hears Brian´s questions, but he doesn´t seem too bothered by him asking. 

“Yes, he´ll be there as well, but don´t get your knickers in a twist about it again.”, Freddie says and then continues, a sudden look of sympathy in his dark eyes, “He´s far away from home, Brimi, he needs someone to spent Christmas with as well. We´re a little group of misfits and that´s how we like it, no family visits, no awkward conversations about made up girlfriends and wives, no hurtful slurs thrown around the dinner table. Just seven jolly queers under the Christmas tree.”

Freddie almost seems excited for the holidays, even though he won´t spend them at home and Brian won´t ruin that for him. Freddie´s always been a little different when it came to holidays like these, spending them with the friends he came to call his family rather than his parents and sister, even though he never failed to pay them a visit as well. 

All Brian wanted was to know that Freddie wouldn´t be alone during the holidays, that he would be happy and feel at ease, cosy and cheery with his friends, celebrating the kind of Christmas he wanted. 

Because while some of the people Freddie saw, seemed very selfish and only interested in his money and a kind of lifestyle, that Brian thought quite harmful to Freddie, the guitarist also knew that Freddie had friends who meant well and who cared for the singer, good people who had gone through their own struggles in life and who valued Freddie´s friendship and company greatly. 

“Hope they´re all happy with their gifts.”, Freddie murmurs, but then his eyes widen, as he seems to remember something “Oh, by the way, hope your children will like their gift from uncle Freddie as well, told Phoebe to mail them about a week ago so the parcels won´t be late.”

Brian feels a dreadful sense of guilt settle over him.

“Freddie, you really shouldn´t have…”, he murmurs but Freddie just grins at him and shakes his head. 

“Oh dear, yours were the least work! Roggie´s little one was easy as well but Deaky, Christ, three or is it four now…god, him and Ronny are too fast at making them, I hope Phoebe got it all right.”, the singer muses and they both chuckle, but then his gaze focuses back on Brian and the smile on his lips becomes significantly smaller. 

He almost looks a little nervous. 

“There´s something for you in there as well…and for Chrissie…Just a small little something.”, Freddie murmurs and Brian feels at a loss for words. 

“Freddie, we said we´re not going give each other anything this year.”, he groans softly. He remembers quite well that two or three years ago, they had all agreed to simply dodge the gifts for Christmas, because it caused a lot of unnecessary stress. But then, Freddie had never been one to follow the rules, smothering them with generous gifts for each of them, their wives and children every year, claiming that he simply couldn´t help himself. 

“Yeah, I know, I know…”, the singer sighs with a smile and a little eyeroll. 

“I´ve got nothing for you, Fred. This is awkward.”, Brian keeps on complaining, but Freddie´s smile turns a little warmer, as he shakes his head. 

“Oh don´t worry, darling, you´ve already made my Christmas a very happy one.”, he says softly, but Brian has trouble catching on. 

“Did I?”, he asks. 

“Yeah, you did, darling.”, The Persian replies and strokes Brian´s cheek with the knuckles of his fingers, which makes Brian realise what he is talking about. “This is lovely…and I mean it…really just…Iovely.”

He knows that Freddie´s words come from the heart, but they fill him with a deep sense of shame. How grossly has he mistreated the man in front of him, to make him think that this, Brian being caring and tender with him, allowing them to enjoy some real intimacy and closeness, is a gift, when in reality, it is all that Brian ever wanted to give him?

It is what Brian craves, what he longs for when he´s alone in his bed at night. And he feels terrible for pushing this desire away for so long, for hurting his friend in the process of it. 

“Freddie, I´m so sorry, really, there´s so much I´d like to…”, he starts to explain, but the singer, probably thinking that Brian is going to say something much different, quickly tries to get in a word.  
“I know you called things off, darling and I respect your decision.”, he says, gaze fixed on Brian, nervously licking his bottom lip with a quick flick of his tongue. 

“Being here…with you…it makes me not want to call things off…”, Brian murmurs, stumbling over the words, cringing at how clumsy they sound. 

“Then don´t, Brimi…”, Freddie says softly, gently and there´s so much warmth and a sliver of pain in his eyes and Brian feels like his heart might burst. 

He´s quite certain that he won´t find the right words for how he feels right now, so he just leans down and presses a small kiss to Freddie´s naked shoulder, which makes the singer hum softly, while Brian trails a line of kisses up his neck and then places the last one to the slightly rough hair of Freddie´s sideburn. 

Freddie laughs softly, lashes fluttering shut, nose slightly scrunched but then looks up at Brian. Brian can sense that there are words on the tip of his tongue, a declaration of adoration maybe, spoken out in the shielding dark of the hotel room. 

“Happy Christmas, Brian.”, Freddie says instead and presses a sweet kiss to the corner of Brian´s mouth. 

“Happy Christmas, Freddie.”, Brian replies and then kisses him properly. 

Brian finds it difficult to simply slip into the routine of home-life, to get back into what had once been his normal, his every-day. He feels like an intruder, like he´s watching himself interact with his family, picking him up from the airport and driving back home, where he stands in his own living room like he´s in a furniture store, debating on which sofa to buy. 

Jason´s over the moon to have his daddy back and even little Louisa sleeps contently in his arms, as he holds her whenever he can, to make up for the time spent away. It feels good to be with the children, to see that in the time he had been away, they hadn´t suddenly grown to hate their father for some unknown reason, like the mean little voice in Brian´s brain had told him over and over again. 

Chrissie has outdone herself with the Christmas decorations this year. The house is an explosion of fairy lights, candles, tinsel, red and gold, an exaggeration of everything Brian had previously loved so much about Christmas. 

And even though in the days leading up to Christmas, it gets a little easier to fall back into the old patterns of family life, he still feels like he doesn´t belong in this place anymore, this beautiful home, this loving family. There´s an overwhelming sense of guilt lingering over his every action, his every word, when he sees how Chrissie has learned to live her life without him, how she cares for the children, manages to keep things running. 

He knows that it´s selfish and very silly, but it makes him feel like they don´t need him anymore, like they´ve simply outgrown him, like Chrissie is simply too kind to tell him how she really feels. 

It´s the worst when he holds her at night, when it´s just the two of them, no distractions to hide behind. Because she can tell when he can´t sleep at night, plagued by the usual insomnia, lost in his dark thoughts. 

Because there´s no way to run from them and his physical distance from Munich hasn´t rid him of them. 

He keeps thinking about Munich, keeps thinking about Freddie, wondering what he´s doing right now, worrying, pondering, losing himself in the spiral of thoughts. Is Freddie in someone else´s bed right now? Is he high on drugs? Is he hurting? Is he in danger?

Intimacy with Chrissie feels like an even bigger lie. It´s robotic, mechanical even, like he´s holding himself back, hiding something from her with every touch, every movement, gasping for breath as the steady creaking of their bed tells him that his body is still working, still doing what he tells it to do, his hips moving while Chrissie holds on tightly to him and he quietly prays for it to be over soon.

“I love you, honey.”, Chrissie tells him afterwards, when he´s rolled off of her and lies there, staring up at the ceiling. She takes his face in both her hands, tenderly stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “Don´t you forget about that, yeah?”

She can tell that something isn´t right, that he´s going through something, has been for a long, long time and even though she doesn´t ask, maybe is too afraid to, he can see it in her eyes. 

Brian pulls himself together as best as he can over Christmas, tries to be as merry or at least present, as he can, goes through the Christmas dinner, the church service, seeing Chrissie´s parents, seeing his parents and spending time as a family as well as he can. 

When they open presents on Christmas morning, Jason is over the moon with the expensive set of a toy spaceship and little astronaut figures, as well a remote-controlled racing car, an adorably fluffy polar bear plushie and a lovely set of 100 coloured pens Freddie has sent in the parcel. 

“Tell uncle Freddie thank you, yeah Daddy?”, Jason says to Brian and then dashes off to play with the new toys. 

“I will, darling. He´ll be so happy to hear that you liked your presents.”

Brian struggles to contain his nervousness when he reads the card Freddie has addressed to him and Chrissie, but of course, it´s as heart-felt and lovely as every year and Brian scolds himself for thinking anything else. 

Chrissie´s present is a golden brooch with three shimmering pearls, one of Freddie´s antique-shop finds and most definitely quite pricey. His wife pins it to the collar of the flowy white blouse she is wearing and then watches Brian unwrap his present, which turn out to be a lovely vintage edition of Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse, one of Brian´s absolute favourites and of course, in German. 

Brian finds himself clinging to the small blue cover of the book, fingers running endlessly over the cloth material of it and the imprinted golden letters, almost tenderly touching the inanimate object, his only current connection to the man who has gifted it to him. 

He somehow makes it through the day, but in the evening, Chrissie seems worried when she comes to bed. It´s late, the street in front of their house quiet and there´s a chill in the air, carried in through the open window. 

Brian shivers when he takes off his jumper and shirt and as he sits down to peel off his socks, Chrissie takes a seat next to him on the bed and places a gentle hand on his knee to gain his attention.  
“Brian…”, she says softly and he feels a sense of defeat settling over him. 

He knows what´s coming and what´s scaring him the most is the fact that he doubts that he will be able to hold it in any longer. 

“I can tell that something isn´t right…”, she says softly and takes both of his hands in hers. “Please…just tell what´s wrong…”

Brian feels the warmth of her small palms on his, tries to take deep breaths and wrecks his brain for an explanation that would allow him to keep his wife in the dark. Telling her the truth feels like being a burden, like destroying the life they have built together. 

But he can feel his eyes burning with tears that start to well up, feels his chest getting tight with a sob, his fingers starting to shake as he fails to control his breathing. 

“I´m a terrible person…”, he sobs and squeezes his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. 

“Oh darling…”, Chrissie sighs, then takes his face in both her hands, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the soft pads of her thumbs and tenderly kisses his cheekbone. “You´re not! Don´t ever say that, Brian.” She smiles at him, lovingly caresses his cheek. “I´m so glad that you´re here, honey. Here…with us.”

But Brian shakes his head and feels his heartbeat hammering away in his chest. 

“No Chrissie, you don´t understand…I´ve cheated on you.”


	6. I Loved You Since I Knew Ya, I Wouldn´t Talk Down To Ya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darling,  
> here´s chapter six of the this dramatic little Maycury story. As you might have noticed, I keep on adding chapters to this and that, my friends, is because I am really really bad at planning my fics and sticking to the plan so yeah, nine chapters instead of the six ones that were planned.  
> Enjoy chapter six!

“Why?”, Chrissie asks and her words break the silence that has stretched on between them for a little eternity like the first rumble of thunder after lightning striking, “Why have you done it?”

Brian´s gaze clings to her. She doesn´t try to hide the pain his words have caused her. Chrissie has never been one to mask her true emotions. She´s always been honest, always been vulnerable and bravely open with him and he has always admired this trait in her. 

Even now she still seems to trust him enough to show her emotions in such an unhidden way. Her voice sounds strained and there are tears welling up in her eyes. She doesn´t wipe them away when they run down her cheeks, unashamed of her pain. 

“I´ve not been feeling like myself lately…I…It feels like I´m in the dark…constantly. There´s nothing that brings joy to me anymore. I´m just existing. I`m so tired…but I can´t sleep…and I can´t eat. It feels like I´m asleep half of the time, like…like I´m in a coma…and I can´t move…and I can´t speak…I just keep on going through the motions of my day…Sometimes I…sometimes I feel like I can´t take it anymore…”, Brian starts, stammers and flinches upon hearing his own words. How cowardly they sound, how foolish, how weak!

“You´re depressed.”, Chrissie says, a statement that seems plain and simple from her lips, even though the words hit Brian like a punch in the guts. He knows that it´s true, but hearing it from her lips is different, more painful somehow. 

In shame, he lowers his gaze, looks down at his hands. The pale skin is blotchy with nervousness, flushes where his thumb has rubbed it. His hand feel sweaty and cold at the same time. 

“Still, that doesn´t explain why you did it.”, she adds and Brian looks up at her again, blinks a few times to rid his vision of the previous blurriness. 

“No…”, he replies, his voice quiet and weak. 

“Was it a one-night-stand?”, she continues to ask, her gaze never leaving him, even though the tears keep running down her face. She´s unashamed of her emotions, strong and honest in the pain she´s feeling, the pain his actions have caused her. 

Compared to his wife, Brian feels nothing but weak. 

“No.”, he murmurs and he sees anger flash inside of her eyes. 

“So it happened more than once…several times?”, she asks, but she doesn´t wait for him to confirm her suspicion, “Have you been meeting up with her regularly?”

“Yes.”, Brian croaks out and blinks hastily again. 

She nods, lashes fluttering for a second, arms crossed in front of her chest, as if she´s holding herself, holding herself together, a soothing embrace to comfort herself because her husband can´t. 

Because he´s the one who´s responsible for her crying. 

“So what you´re actually saying is that you´re having an affair.”, she says and her voice sounds flat, no emotions, just the plain statement. Brian´s embarrassed of the fact that even now, she had to be the one to make him say it, to coax the truth from his lips. 

“Yes…”, he says quietly and watches her take a deep breath, running a hand over her wet cheeks to wipe the tears away. 

“Great…absolutely bloody brilliant, Brian…”, she whispers and then her gaze slips from him and she hides her face in her hands, long hair falling into her face, her shoulders shaking as she sobs brokenly.

Brian feels his stomach turn with guilt, feels self-hatred coursing through his system like venom. How could he hurt the woman he loves so badly? How could he ever do this to her?

“Chrissie, I-I´m sorry…I…”, he stammers and inches closer, places a gentle hand onto her shoulder, wants to pull her into a hug because it´s the only thing he´s able to provide right now, but she flinches and moves away from his touch, removing her hands from her face and angrily glaring at him. 

“No Brian! You don´t…you don´t just get to say that you´re sorry…”, she sobs, her lower lips trembling and her voice full of furry and pain, “You know, it´s one thing if you´re feeling bad, if you´re…For God´s sake Brian, you need to talk to someone, you need help. This…depression…this is not the first time it happened…and…you know…you could have just told me…and we´d have figured something out…like we always do!”

“Yes…”, Brian whispers, but Chrissie isn´t done yet. He can practically feel her anger vibrating in the air between them, can feel the way she seems to come to terms with what he has just told her. 

“But you just went out and…found some…tart…to fuck that funk in your head right out!”, she hisses at him and then starts to cry even harder. 

“Chrissie love, no that´s not what…”, Brian stammers, but she won´t hear any of his apologies, won´t be silenced by them. 

“Don´t lie to me, Brian May! That is exactly what happened!”, she shouts at him and then sinks into herself and starts crying even harder, “How could you do this to me? To us…I´ve had our baby six months ago, Brian…”, she whispers through her tears. 

Seeing her in so much pain is like a stab in the heart for Brian. And still he feels like there´s nothing he can do, nothing he can say right now to heal the wound he has caused, to make it okay.  
“I know…I know, darling…”, he says quietly, trying to somehow make her understand how utterly sorry he is. 

But she won´t have it. She looks at him with blazing eyes, angry and harsh as she inches closer. 

“Who is she?”, she asks, and when he doesn´t answer right away, “Tell me her name!”

“No…”, is all Brian manages to say softly. Panic rises inside of him, making his chest feel tight. 

He cannot tell her, he simply cannot! It would cause too much pain, too much confusion, it would destroy the foundation their marriage is built on. 

“It´s because I know her, isn´t it? I´ve met her before, am I right?”, Chrissie continues to prod, her gaze burning into Brian´s. 

“Darling, it´s no use, please…”, he says quickly, shaking his head, trying to get away from her, but she comes closer and forcefully grabs his arms, her almond-shaped nails biting into his skin. 

“Tell me who she is, Brian or I´ll…”, she hisses, her voice shaking and her eyes full of pain and Brian feels the secret burning in the pit of his stomach like acid eating its way through his flesh and bones.

“Please…please Chrissie, don´t…”, he pleads but she grabs him by the chin and forces him to look at her, like an angry mother punishing her son. 

“Who is she, Brian? Is it some silly little student waitress from a Biergarten? Is she 23? 18? Is she 16, Brian? Is that what you´re into?!”, she shouts into his face and grabs his chin even harder. 

“No…”, Brian whimpers through his squished cheeks, his voice breaking. 

“Liar!”, Chrissie hisses at him. “I bet she´s half as old as you!”

Brian can´t take it anymore. He blurts out the truth like it´s bile, bitter and harsh in his mouth. 

“It´s Freddie!”

Brian watches the realisation sink into Chrissie´s consciousness like venom seeping in through the bite of a snake, slowly absorbed by the skin until it spreads through the veins. At first, she quirks up her eyebrow, the shadow of a sneer forming on her mouth, as if she thinks Brian is mocking her, joking around at the worst of times. But then, it disappears and makes room for something far worse. Disbelieving shock. 

“W-what?”, she whispers softly and just stares at Brian, waits for him to tell her that this is a cruel joke, a very misplaced prank. Brian stays silent, struggling to hold her gaze. 

And then she seems to understand, to fully understand that this isn´t a joke and it isn´t a lie. It´s the truth. The ugly, shameful, incredibly painful truth. 

“It´s Freddie! I´ve been sleeping with Freddie for the past three months.”, Brian´s surprised to find his voice so steady, so calm. He doesn´t know how he even works up the courage to speak. 

“I…this is…I don´t know what to say…I…”, Chrissie stammers. She stares down at her shaking hands, seems disoriented, confused. 

Brian feels like the best thing he can do right now is to go, to leave the room, to give her space. There´s nothing he can say right now that would make it better. 

So he gets up from the bed and takes the first few tentative steps towards the door. 

“Where are you going?”, Chrissie asks, seemingly quite startled by the sudden movement. 

There are fresh tears shimmering in her eyes as if his leaving seems to cause her even more pain. 

“I´ll sleep on the sofa.”, Brian murmurs and suddenly, he can´t bear to have her looking at him anymore. He disappears from the room like a shadow, slipping out of the door, quietly and full of shame, into the peaceful silence of the house. 

The next few days feel like he´s in a dream. It´s not a nightmare, but it bears the numb weightlessness of a hallucination, unreal and strangely pale, strangely empty. 

He watches his children play with their new toys, he hoovers the house, folds the laundry, goes out to play with Jason and little Louisa in the garden, watches snow fall onto the frozen ground for it to turn into rain quite quickly. 

At meals, he only pretends to eat by pushing the food around on his plate and at night, he doesn´t sleep, laying awake on the sofa in the living room for hours and hours. Sometimes he tries to read Steppenwolf, but all he ever does is run his fingers over the pages, like he imagines Freddie has done before he had bought the book. 

He misses Freddie, misses him terribly, even though he knows he shouldn´t.

In the hazy state between waking and sleeping in those early hours of the morning, his mind keeps returning to the last night they had spent together, to the way Freddie had kisses him with such tenderness and let him make love to him, legs slung tightly around Brian´s hips, a dreamy smile on his lips. 

Brian keeps thinking about the way they had held each other afterwards, had fallen asleep in each other´s arms, the way Freddie´s embrace had felt like coming home, like finally, finally finding the home he had been searching for all of his life. Being with Freddie, being like this, had felt so right, that now, everything else felt utterly wrong. 

He can´t even look Chrissie in the eyes anymore. They keep dancing around each other, filling the sudden silence with meaningless words when they´re around the children, scared that they might notice. They´re too small, Brian keeps thinking, when he´s playing with Jason or holding Louisa in his arms. They won´t notice. Hopefully. 

“Why now?”, Brian almost jumps at the words suddenly spoken out loud in the quiet of the night. He´s been lying awake again, head resting against the pillows of the sofa, watching the headlights of the cars travel along the ceiling of the living room, hours ticking by while he´s not able to find any sleep. 

When he turns around, he finds Chrissie standing in the doorway to the living room, her feet naked, wearing one of his shirts as a nightgown. She looks like he´s been to bed already but like him, she had probably not been able to get any sleep yet. 

“Pardon?”, he asks, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. 

“It´s what I keep asking myself…Why now?”, she asks and slowly comes closer, sitting down on the duvet, quite close to him, “You´ve known each other for a decade. Why is it now that you two…?”

There´s a haunting sadness in her eyes and she looks tired, incredibly tired. Here, in the dark of the living room, with the lights of the Christmas tree shimmering by the fireplace, Brian knows that he should feel ashamed, that he shouldn´t tell her the truth and instead come up with a soothing excuse. 

But he doesn´t. 

“I don´t know…I…I guess it´s always been…there…sort of…”, he replies in a whisper, but he lowers his gaze. She´s facing him, knees touching his, close enough for him to easily touch her. Her closeness is a comfort, a familiar sensation, even though he knows he doesn´t deserve it. 

“So, you´ve got feelings for him?”, she asks and he works up the courage to look a her again. 

“N-No…I…I mean…”, he stammers, trying to minimize the damage his word surely would cause while still telling the truth, “I don´t know…”

She sighs, a soft, defeated sound and then gently takes his hand into hers, her fingers running over his knuckles, gently lacing the digits together, a surprisingly tender gesture. 

“You know…the sad thing is…I kinda always suspected that he was in love with you. The way he looked at you when you were playing, like you were some sort of…guitar God or something. And the way he interacts with you on stage…it´s…erotic almost…you´re so in tune with each other, the way his body just seems so drawn towards yours…”, she whispers while still looking down at their joint hands and Brian swallows thickly against the tears, against the sob he can feel bubbling up in his chest. 

Suddenly, she raises her head and her eyes focus on him with a determined intensity. 

“Have there been other men?”, she asks and Brian quickly shakes his head. 

“No darling, of course not!”, he says and squeezes her hand with his.

“Have you ever thought of other men…like that?”, she continues to ask and Brian feels himself flushing with shame. 

“Yes…”, he whispers, knowing that lying would only hurt her further. 

She nods slowly and then clears her throat before she speaks. The words come out reluctant and slow, as if she´s scared of the answer he will give to her question. 

“Have you ever thought of other men…of Freddie when we were together?”

“Chrissie…”, Brian sighs and closes his eyes in defeated frustration. 

“Please…”, she whispers in an urgent tone, “Please be honest with me, Brian…”

When his gaze finds her´s again, there´s an urgent need for the truth in her eyes and Brian knows that he owes it to her, owes her an answer to all of her questions, however uncomfortable they may be.

“Yes…”, he whispers, blinking against the tears welling up in his eyes. 

Brian hates crying. When he was a boy, his father had laughed at him for crying over a broken toy or a bruised knee from falling down and sometimes, when he had been especially naughty and his father had punished him with his belt, crying had made the punishment even worse. 

So he tries to fight the tears, tries to keep them in, until they burst out of him, until he heaves with the words and the sobs that spill from his lips. 

“I´m sorry…I´m sorry I am like this, I know it´s disgusting…”, he whimpers, pulling his hands away from Chrissie´s hold, “I known I´m a fucking failure…I´m failing you and I´m failing our children…I´m being nothing but a fucking burden on all of you…I should just go…go away…you would all be much better off without me…”

Suddenly, there´s a pair of arms around him as Chrissie pulls him into a soothing hug, letting him burry his face in the crook of her neck, holding him so tightly, so determinedly that Brian starts crying even harder. 

“Oh Brian, my darling, no…Do not say such horrible things, they are not true…”, she whispers into his ear and kisses his cheek, “Shhh, it´s okay…it´s okay, we´ll sort this out…We´ll sort this mess out, honey...”

Brian feels like he deserves none of this, none of her kindness, none of her comforting words. He doesn´t deserve the way she holds him, the way she still wants him in her life, the way she tells him that it´s going to be okay. 

“I don´t deserve your love…I don´t even deserve to…”, he sobs, but she silences him with more words of comfort and love, kissing his cheek, his forehead, his cheekbone. 

“Shhh, no…it´s going to be okay….”, she whispers, but he shakes his head, even though he lets himself be pulled close by her again. 

“No, it´s not…I´ve…fucked it all up. I`ve ruined it all and I hate myself for it.”, he protests weakly, but she keeps holding him through it, soothing him with words and touches, telling him that she´s here, here for him. 

They eventually lay down, crammed into the sofa, remembering the old days when they had been younger and money had been tight, when they had shared but a single bed. When they had been so utterly, so foolishly in love with each other. 

They fall asleep in each other´s arms and for the nights to come, Brian sleeps in their bed again. 

They spent New Year´s with Chrissie´s parents and Brian feels nothing but anxious and unworthy the whole time, feeling sick from all the gin tonic he drinks to cope with his nervousness, throwing up later on that night, feeling utterly embarrassed about it, because he´d barely made it to the guest bedroom. 

Chrissie´s mum makes him some tea and her father pats his shoulder, but he still feels pathetic. 

His flight back to Munich goes on the 2nd January and on that night, he can´t fall asleep once again. 

They lay awake in the dark, Chrissie and him, her head resting on his shoulder, one of her arms slung over his chest. Her closeness is comforting, an innocent, almost platonic kind of intimacy that feels grounding and reassuring. 

He marvels at the fact that she still puts up with him, that she sleeps in the same bed with him and holds him tightly, doesn´t treat him any different even though she now knows what a pathetic liar he is. 

“Do you know when you´ll be back home again?”, she asks in a soft whisper, her voice so quiet and tender that Brian supresses a shiver. That´s what´s most confusing about the whole business. It still feels so good to be close to her, to be held by her, it´s just different, different from how he felt about her before. It´s still love, but it´s different. 

“Once we´ve finished the album.”, Brian says quietly and he hates himself for how vague his answer is. He could try and blame it on the fact that working on the album is causing a lot of conflict in the band, that things aren´t progressing as smoothly as they should because they struggle to work around their disagreements. 

But that´s not what she´s asked him. This is about their future, about a decision Brian has to make. 

He turns his head to the side and finds her looking at him. She gently runs her fingers over his cheek, tenderness in her eyes and Brian once again feels so utterly ashamed of himself. 

“Brian…please do come back home when the album is done. Please don´t…feel like you can´t come back because of what happened…or what might happen.”, she whispers to him and he nods, once again fighting against the tears. 

“Thank you, Chrissie.”, Brian whispers in the dark and while she holds him, gently running her fingers over his cheek, he falls asleep for a few hours before waking again in the pale light of the morning, to go back to Munich. 

He´s incredibly nervous before seeing Freddie again. On his way to the studio the next day, sitting in a taxi, he feels his hands going clammy with sweat, while his heart hammers away in his chest like a drum. 

It´s ridiculous really, it´s just Freddie after all. Freddie, who he´s known for more than decade, his best friend, his bandmate. But then, Brian simply can´t help himself, can´t keep from fidgeting, can´t keep from smiling involuntarily, until John, who´s in the car with him, comments on it, telling him how glad he is to see Brian in high spirits for their first recording session of the new year. 

When their gazes meet, Brian simply knows that John must suspect something but the bassist had never been one to prod or to ask uncomfortable questions and so John just sends him one of his kind smiles and they get to the studio without Brian embarrassing himself by spilling the truth. 

As they arrive at the recording room, they find Freddie and Roger already in full swing of working on a song, laughing and singing, and Brian´s utterly horrified at how fast his heart is beating and how happy, how excited he is to see the singer again. 

“Hullo guys, happy new year!”, Deaky says as they come in and Brian watches Freddie look up from the piano, his dark eyes immediately finding Brian.

Freddie sends him an adorably toothy grin and visibly blushes with excitement as he gets up from the piano stool. 

“Hello my darling, aww, do come here!”, he coos and then skitters over, to pull John into a tight hug, which makes the bassists chuckle. 

“Oh Deaky darling, you look lovely and relaxed! Did you have a nice Christmas with Ronnie and the kids?”, Freddie blabbers and Roger shoots Brian a look, giving him a little eyeroll and a grin. 

“Yes, it was so nice to be back and spent some time with them. They loved your Christmas presents, Fred. Thank you so much!”, John manages to get in. 

“Of course, my dear, it was so much fun picking them out! I´m so happy to hear that they were well-received.”

Freddie finally lets go of John, who looks a little flushed, as always when he´s hugging someone and as the bassists goes to greet Roger, Freddie´s gaze once again sets on Brian and warmth blooms in his dark eyes. 

“Freddie, so good to see you.”, Brian says quickly and finds himself sounding slightly out of breath, as he pulls the Persian into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for the Christmas present. The children loved them…just like Chrissie.”

Freddie´s perfume clouds his senses, his shoulders feel broad and secure under Brian´s hands as he runs his palms over the singer´s back and Brian struggles to supress the urge to press his nose into the crook of the Persian´s neck simply to inhale, simply to relish in the smell, the feel of the other man. 

“Aww, that´s alright! So good to see you too, darling.”, Freddie says softly and then his lips accidentally graze Brian´s cheek, which makes the guitarist blush even more. Brian pulls him even tighter and Freddie hums softly. 

“Hey, have you forgotten about me! I want a big ol´ smooch as well, you selfish wankers!”, Roger suddenly piped up next to him in a teasing tone and Brian´s forced to finally let go of Freddie, laughing it all off. 

“Out of the way, Fred, it´s my turn!”, the drummer keeps on joking and even presses an overexaggerated kiss to Brian´s flushes cheek, which makes all of them laugh and Brian´s simply obligated to make a right show and dance about pushing Roger away and pulling a face. 

It feels good to come back to this, their joking around, a bit of fun and foolishness in those dark, dreary days of January and the following hours of work go by easy. They aren´t too productive, mostly just improvising to get back into the groove. 

Roger and Freddie present to them a new song called “Body Language”, which is utterly ridiculous and not at all Brian´s cup of tea, but he puts up with it, simply because Roger and Freddie look utterly excited and because it feels good to just listen, to simply watch them be happy and silly and in much higher spirits than in the months before. 

They take a break at around lunch time and Brian finds it almost comical that Freddie and him nearly stumble over their own feet to fall into each other´s arms the second they´re on their own, taking refuge on one of the balconies facing the yard of the building complex. 

Freddie had been out there smoking when Brian had found him and without a word, he had dropped his cigarette to fling himself at Brian, framing his face with both of his hands and kissing him between small giggles and sighs, all tickling moustache and soft lips. 

They´re shielded from anyone seeing them, hidden away in the shadows of the grubby backyard, no other windows or balconies facing them, leaning against the railing, snogging like hormonal teenagers, clinging tightly to each other. 

“I´ve missed you so much.”, Freddie whispers against his lips. 

“I`ve missed you too, Freddie. Missed you so…”, the rest of his words get drowned out by another kiss and then they don´t speak for a full two or three minutes because it feels so good to just hold each other, to just enjoy this moment of closeness. 

“Can I see you tonight?”, Brian asks breathlessly against the singer´s neck and Freddie shivers and then sweetly kisses his cheek, before he draws back enough to nod, smiling like he´s never been happier. 

“All yours, darling.”, the singer whispers and it should sound like a little joke, but it makes something warm and protective bloom in Brian´s chest and he nods and grins back at the singer. 

The rest of the day is a bit agonizing, simply because the time doesn´t seem to go by at all. They stay at the studio until around 7 pm and then go to the Augustiner Am Markt, where they have dinner and drink a bit too much Weissbier, just for good measure. 

Then they go back to the hotel and the moment Roger leaves the elevator, wishing them a good night, Freddie and him are all over each other, barely making it back to Brian´s room. 

Brian manages to turn on one of the lamps on the bedside table while Freddie kisses his neck and starts to sneak a hand to the front of his jeans to massage Brian´s cock, half-hard since the moment Freddie had carefully places his hand on Brian´s knee under the table during dinner, squeezing his thigh with expert fingers, letting them travel upwards, unseen by anyone. 

Quickly, Brian grabs Freddie´s wrist, causing him to still his movements. 

“I want you to get on the bed for me please, Freddie.”, he whispers against the singer´s cheek. “You´re going to let me take care of you tonight, alright?”

There´s a second of stillness, a second of silence from Freddie but then he nods quickly and makes his way over to the bed, losing all usual elegance in the giddy jitteriness that seems to have taken a hold of him. 

Brian thinks about how fun it would be to tease the other man a bit, to playfully let his mouth ghost over the rough material of the crotch of Freddie´s jeans, breathing down on the growing bulge like he´s seen men and woman do in porn, like he´s witnessed Freddie doing with him countless times. 

The only problem is that he´s never done this before, has never used his mouth on another man like that and a suddenly rush of nervousness comes over him. But he wants it so much, wants Freddie so much, has waited for this for what feels like a small eternity. 

He dares to look up at the other man once again, thumbs smoothing over the material of Freddie´s shirt right along his sensitive sides and the singer´s eyes are full of warm adoration and soft fondness as he smiles at Brian, silently encouraging him to go on at his own pace. 

Brian´s hands are shaking when he opens Freddie´s belt, unbuttons his tight jeans and pulls them down along with the Persian´s underwear, Freddie´s cock almost fully hard already, a familiar sight from a perspective so different than before as he leans in. 

He´s pretty sure that he´s never looked at a cock with such interest, never seen one in such detail and it´s almost ironic to him that he can´t help but find Freddie´s prick beautiful, perfectly shaped in size and girth, standing proudly just for him as he closes his fingers around the root of it, feeling the slight coarseness of the singer´s pubic hair. 

Brian feels his pulse hammering, quickly licks his lips to wet them and then works up the courage to do it. 

Freddie gives a delicious little moan when Brian closes his lips around the tip and starts sucking gently. 

And it´s an epiphany. Brian moans with delight as he takes the singer deeper, lets him sink further into his mouth, sucks again, tastes something salty and earthy as he lets the tip of his tongue explore the spongy head of the other man´s cock, licking at the foreskin. 

And he loves it, loves the way Freddie´s thighs start quivering, loves the way his prick twitches under his hand and lips, loves the taste, the feel, the little sounds Freddie starts making when Brian licks and sucks and properly goes for it, manages to turn off his loud, noisy, heavy brain and just lets himself be consumed by the simple act of giving pleasure. 

Maybe he gets a little bit too excited because when he tries taking Freddie into his mouth even deeper, his gag reflex kicks in and he starts spluttering, pulling back quickly, flushing crimson with embarrassment and frankly, the lack of air. 

“Brimi darling, are you okay?”, Freddie asks quickly, sounding a little breathless and Brian gives him a bashful smile and a hasty nod, as the singer tenderly strokes his cheek with his thumb, sitting up a little. 

“Sorry…”, Brian croaks but Freddie just shakes his head. 

“Darling, it feels lovely, but if it´s a bit much for you to start with maybe you could…you know, give me a nice handjob or something, I love those from you, your fingers feel heavenly and…”, Freddie blabbers, showering him with the praise that he knows Brian´s wounded ego needs right now, but the guitarist´s got other plans. 

After all, Brian´s never been one to gives up easily. And so he leans in again, remembering something that he loves when Freddie does it, gently rubbing his lips against the tip Freddie´s cock, a gentle touch that smears precum onto his lips before he closes them around the head again to give it a flat-tongued lick that has Freddie groaning throatily.

“You taste so good…”, Brian whispers, as he pulls off again, gaze locked on Freddie´s heavy-lidded eyes, “So fucking good, do you hear me?”, he asks, determination in his voice, “Don´t hold back, alright? I want all of it…all of you…”

Freddie looks at him with big brown eyes, his lips slightly parted and then he swallows thickly and nods, almost as if he can´t quite believe it.  
“Okay…”, he whispers.

Brian simply let´s himself be led by his instincts now, relishing in listening to the clues that Freddie´s body gives him, telling him with each shiver, each moan, each little wiggle and thrust of his hips what he needs right now. 

Slowly, he starts to work out a technique, a teasing, exploring rhythm varying in taking Freddie into his mouth as deep as he can and then sucking only to then almost let him glide from his mouth to just gently suckle and lick, which makes Freddie whimper and buck his hips until Brian has to hold him down with a firm hand.

He makes up for what his lips can´t reach with his fingers, gaining confidence at the way Freddie reacts so beautifully to each of Brian´s caresses. There´s something meditative to it all, the way his lips and mouth worship Freddie, the way the singer lets himself be adored, lets himself be pleasured in such a way. 

The fact that Freddie´s breathing starts to get erratic, his hips helplessly thrusting into the heat of Brian´s mouth tells the guitarist, that it won´t be long before the Persian will reach his climax. And Brian simply can´t wait for it. 

“Bri…Brimi…”, Freddie gasps, tapping Brian´s shoulder with his fingers, his breathing quite laboured now. “I think I´m gonna come…”

Brian gives a throaty hum and sucks again, with a little more force this time, which has Freddie moaning obscenely loud.

“Darling…I mean it…I´m really close…”, he hisses but then Brian repeats his previous action and Freddie gives a helpless little yelp, before he goes rigid and something hot and slightly bitter-tasting fills Brian´s mouth. 

He swallows every last drop of it, while Freddie shakes and curses and shivers through his orgasm and when he´s done, when Brian feels like he´s sucked him dry and he comes up for air, he finds Freddie looking beautifully dishevelled, skin glowing with a post-orgasmic flush. 

Freddie weakly takes a hold of the collar of Brian´s shirt and pulls him up, a lazy, fucked-out smile on his lips as they grin at one another. 

“I quite enjoyed that.”, Brian murmurs and watches the singer´s eyes go wide with surprise as he smiles at him.

“You did?”, Freddie asks, a sliver of doubt in his voice. 

“Yes I did…”, Brian replies and then Freddie chuckles and pulls him in for an incredibly sweet kiss, that soon turns heated.

“How do you want me?”, Freddie gasps against his lips in between kissing and pulling off Brian´s shirt.

“On your front please.”, Brian replies without having to think much and Freddie´s quick to do as he´s asked. 

Brian takes immense joy in pulling down Freddie´s jeans and underwear properly, the Persian´s lovely, plush bum in front of him and Brian simply can´t help himself and grabs the firm globes with his hands, kneading and squeezing, which makes Freddie chuckle in a breathless way, even though Brian sees him blushing crimson red. 

It´s the first time he touches Freddie like this, the first time he really allows himself to look at the other man in such a way, to feel him, to really experience what it´s like to be with him in a way that´s not hurried or rushed. 

He picks up the lube from the drawer inside the nightstand, ready to start fingering Freddie open, but then his gaze falls onto Freddie´s bum again, his fingers dipping between the cheeks, spreading them slightly, which makes the singer moan softly. 

Brian feels a jolt of electricity go through his spine, his cock straining against the front of his jeans, as an idea starts to manifest inside of his head. He leans in a little and then gently blows warm breath against Freddie´s rosy entrance, making the Persian hiss through his teeth, supressing a curse. 

Brian repeats the process, coming closer and closer still and then suddenly, there´s one simple wish filling up his thoughts. To take that final step and taste Freddie once again. 

He gives a first tentative lick, the skin under his tongue feeling surprisingly silky and Freddie´s moan sounds more like a sob, desperate and shocked, aroused and utterly overwhelmed. 

“Oh god…”, he whispers as Brian once again licks, this time with more confidence, sounding like he still can´t quite believe that this is happening. 

It´s not like Brian really knows what he´s doing, but soon he replaces his tongue with his fingers and Freddie seems just as happy with them, opening up beautifully to the way Brian teases him and keeps on massaging the firm globes of his bum. 

It feels incredibly intimate when Brian finally takes him from behind, when he sinks into that tight heat and they fall into a slow, deep rhythm, so good, it feels a little bit like Brian´s dying every time he´s fully sheathed inside Freddie. 

“Won´t last long…”, he groans against the sweat-dampened skin between Freddie´s shoulder blades and then kisses up his neck, nuzzling at his earlobe. 

“It´s okay, darling…want to feel you…come for me…”, Freddie murmurs, lost in the sensation, shuddering and moaning at each thrust, so beautiful, so vulnerable in the way he simply gives himself to Brian like this. 

A few minutes later, Brian comes with the singer´s name on his lips, a sweet chant climaxing in a deep, low groan that slips from his lips when the wave of his pleasure breaks down over him. 

They sink into the sheets and then stay like this, Brian spooning Freddie, catching his breath and only sliding out of the other man once he feels his cock soften. The singer turns inside of his arms, now facing him, a smile on his face that looks both very pleased and very exhausted, one of his brows quirked up questioningly. 

“Where did all of that come from?”, he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“I just wanted to show you how much I misses you, is all.”, Brian replies, kissing the soft curve of Freddie´s lips and pulling him closer. 

“Well, you most certainly did, darling.”, Freddie replies with a small giggle. 

They don´t sleep much on that night, both of them much too excited to have each other back and if Brian didn´t know any better, he´d say that Freddie really had missed him, judging by the way he doesn´t seem to get enough of Brian, is almost insatiable in the way he kisses, touches, takes everything Brian has to give him again and again, until they´re both utterly spent and dizzy with exhaustion. 

They fall asleep at around 3 am, tangled up in each other, the room a cocoon of safety and warmth until at eight in the morning, they get a call from the reception desk. “Sie wünschten geweckt zu werden.”, says a female voice at the other end and Brian thanks her hastily, before setting to the task of waking Freddie up. 

They arrive at the studio together, late of course, because they had had a shower together beforehand and Freddie had taken so much joy in washing, conditioning and later drying Brian´s hair and Brian had been too weak to say no to a sensuous head massage from Freddie. 

Roger and John don´t make any comments, but they share a knowing glance and that is enough for Brian to know that they know. 

About a week later, he gets a call from Chrissie, which isn´t much out of the ordinary. They have been on the phone every night right from the day of his departure. Brian finds it curious how easy it has gotten for them to communicate, how much closer they have grown since the day he had told her the truth about the life he had come to lead in Munich. 

They haven´t really worked anything out, haven´t really dug deep yet but instead, just gone with the flow, their relationship changed in a way that felt so profound, that neither of them had yet figured out what to do about it.

All they knew is that there was a space, a grey area so to speak, between splitting up, getting a divorce and trying to fix this marriage in a way that would keep everything as it had been before Brian had come clear. And in this grey area, Chrissie and him had allowed their relationship to grow and to both of their surprise, had found out that it was working quite well for them. 

Brian feels like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, feels like he can, within reason, tell her about things. And in return, she seems to be happy to listen, without any judgement, as it seems, to be there for him, just like he wants to be there for her. 

“Have you told him yet?”, she asks, quite out of the blue and Brian sits up from his comfortable spot on the bed, on which he had sat for the past half an hour, watching the sun set over Munich whilst listening to Chrissie tell him about their baby daughter´s sleeping problems. 

“Told who?”, Brian asks, his mind still caught up in the way the sky looks a beautiful shade of flaming pink that reminds him of Freddie´s lips after a particularly passionate kiss, just like the one they had shared right this morning in one of the empty corridors of the studio building. 

Chrissie gives a soft little sigh and Brian can picture her perfectly, giving a small eyeroll and smiling fondly. 

“Freddie of course.”, she says and Brian feels his eyebrows travelling up his forehead in a surprised expression. 

“Oh…”, he says softly and needs a second before his brain catches up, “Told Freddie what?”, he asks and hears her sighing again. 

“That you´re in love with him.”, she says plainly and Brian swallows thickly. 

“Oh…”, he says again and then, “No…”, a little quieter this time. 

It´s the first time she´s brought up the whole matter since he´s left home and Brian feels a little dumfounded and overwhelmed with her bravery to simply address it, to talk about it, to even encourage him in pursuing it, pursuing a relationship that could potentially end their marriage.

“Darling, tell him.”, Chrissie says in a soft tone and Brian can hear her warm smile through the receiver. 

“I don´t know…”, Brian murmurs. 

“Think about it, dear.”, she simply says and then drops the topic as if they hadn´t talked about it at all. 

Brian simply can´t wrap his head around the fact that she still, after everything, behaves so kindly, so very lovingly towards him and as he pushes through the fog, the feelings of unworthiness and self-hatred, he feels nothing but love for Chrissie. A different kind of love, but still an intense emotion of fondness, admiration and respect. 

Still, her suggestion stays with him for the days to come, lingers onto his mind, simmers in the depths of his consciousness. The words seem to easy to speak, especially with Freddie, who his trusts and adores like no one else but still, he struggles to allow himself to even think about them. 

They burn in his throat because they bear a heavy truth, a defeating sense of weakness and vulnerability. Brian knew that this would happen, had always known that there was no running from his true feelings, that had driven him towards the other man in the first place. 

Once he had allowed himself to delve into them, allowed himself to be honest, to not run from it anymore, it all became crystal clear to him. 

He wasn´t just attracted to Freddie, had been for years while he, in amazed wonder, watched the shy long-haired boy with a passion for black nail polish and tacky silver jewellery turn into a larger-than life, moustached, opera-loving, hit-writing, fashion-loving rockstar, but he also is and maybe always had been utterly in love with Freddie. 

There´s a tingling sensation at the back of his neck when he makes his way over to Freddie´s room on that night, a jittery but excited nervousness that makes him dream of just saying those words, of just telling Freddie how he feels.


	7. I Have To Tell You Just How I Feel, I Won´t Share You With Another Boy

They spent most nights together by now, simply having fallen into a pattern of showing up at the other one´s room at late hours of the night to quietly sneak through a crack in the door, always on the lookout for someone that could see them, a camera lens flashing, a pair of eyes watching. 

Brian doesn´t dare to even think about what would happen if someone found out, if someone saw them, someone from the press maybe, ready to expose their secret to the whole world. It would ruin Queen. It would ruin them, their lives, the life of their friends, everything really. 

So they are careful, vigilant really, about the coming and going, about not leaving any traces in each other´s rooms and on each other´s skin, careful to only place hickeys in places that can easily be covered up by the collar of a shirt or an artfully placed scarf later on. Still, he can´t help but love the sight of the marks he leave on the singer´s bronze skin, the small signs of ownership on his neck, around his nipples and on the inside of his thigs, where Brian likes to bite and nibble, just a little bit. 

Brian has been thinking about simply telling Freddie about his feelings for days now and finally, he has made the decision simply go for it. Chrissie´s encouragement really had been the final push and after going back and forth about it, thinking about every possible scenario that could occur from a wedding proposal to complete rejection, he thinks he´s ready to face this kind of conversation. 

He wants to take responsibility, wants to show Freddie that he´s ready to take action, to make room for the singer in his life so they can take, whatever it is that they have, to the next level. 

He´s got a good feeling about this, since the last few days with Freddie have been nothing but a treat. Thinking back to those nights they had spent in each other´s arms makes butterflies flutter in his stomach. Oh, how freeing, how beautiful and intense being with another man, being with Freddie had become, how tenderly he is feeling for his friend, for his lover. 

And just like him, Brian feels as if Freddie has allowed himself to open up a little more as well. They have always been close, not just on a physical level, living in each other´s pockets, sharing so many memories, but on an emotional level as well. 

Sleeping with the Persian has become so much more than the simple satisfaction of the needs he has supressed for so many years. Being close to Freddie now was a profound, an eye-opening experience that had made their connection grow stronger and stronger each time they were close. 

And oh, how lovely Freddie could be when he just let down his walls. When they were on their third, sometimes even fourth fuck for the night and he would moan so helplessly, lost in his pleasure as Brian entered him once again, flushed and overstimulated, but still so hungry, still so eager, so vulnerable. 

There´s a spring in Brian´s step now, as he´s not far from the singer´s room anymore. 

His hand is shaking slightly when he knocks on the door and it takes quite a long time until Freddie, wearing only a silken dressing gown, his hair mussed with sleep, opens up. 

Freddie blinks a him and then a sleepy but sincere smile appears on his lips. Brian feels himself blushing at the sight. Had the Persian gone to bed already? 

“Hello darling, there you are, I was just about to call your room.”, he says and pulls Brian over the threshold a bit, a sort of half hug, fingers playing with the broad collar of Brian´s shirt, fidgeting really. 

“Call my room? Why? Were you scared that I wasn´t going to come over tonight, Fred?”, Brian teases and quickly glances left and right to check that there´s no one around the corridor, before he presses a quick kiss to the singer´s lips. 

Freddie gives a small hum and even though he seems content with the kiss, he doesn´t return it and pulls back after a mere second. 

“No darling, actually I was going to…”, he starts, sounding slightly breathless, as suddenly, a voice from inside the room interrupts him. 

“Wer ist da, Freddie?”*, the voice of a young man asks and Brian´s gaze shifts towards the room behind the singer, a sinking feeling manifesting in the pit of his stomach.  
Freddie isn´t alone. 

In the soft, mellow light of the lamp on the desk, he makes out the figure of a young, blond man, lying in bed, hidden almost by the large duvet he has pulled almost up to the tip of his nose.  
Something about him seems familiar to Brian. 

“It´s just a friend of mine, Gustav darling. Go back to sleep, I´ll be right back.”, Freddie replies, turning around slightly to look at the young man, well boy, as Brian recognised his name from the incident at the night club. 

The sinking feeling grows stronger, barely concealing the emotion that is starting to bubble up in his hurting heart. Jealousy. It tastes bile and bitter on Brian´s tongue as his gaze rakes over the shape of Gustav under the duvet. 

His naked feet are peeking out from under the white sheet suggesting that there´s more bare skin to find, that he might be completely bare. 

“In Ordnung…”*, Gustav grumbles and then turns around, now facing away from the door.

It takes a second for Brian to be able to speak again, his mind running at a million miles per hour but then his gaze shifts back to Freddie, who looks at guilty as a school boy who had just been caught cheating on a test or smoking a cigarette in the yard.

“Oh… I see…”, Brian murmurs and he finds his voice to be quiet but very sharp. 

As the jealousy starts to simmer, he feels another emotion surfacing from the depths of his consciousness with surprising strength. Anger.  
He feels his pulse start hammering harder against his temples as he watches Freddie squirm under his gaze. 

“Yes well, darling, that´s why I wanted call you, you know.”, the singer blabbers and the way his nimble finger´s still keep playing around the buttons on Brian´s shirt only irritates him further. “As it appears, I am currently playing host for a very dear friend in need and…”

“Yes, a very dear friend indeed, am I right Fred?”, Brian says, his jaw so tight that the words barely make it past his tight lips. 

Oh, what a prize idiot he is! What a fool!, he thinks to himself and the jealousy and anger get overpowered by something else. Sadness. A dreadful, heavy sadness that makes him feel like he´s sinking under water, drowning in it, to weak to struggle, to try and swim up to the surface to breathe. 

“Oh darling, you mustn´t be like this! You see, I hadn´t planned on Gustav coming around but then the poor boy found himself in the most fatal of circumstances and I simply couldn´t stand by and watch! Surely you do understand, don´t you dear?”, Freddie explains in quick, hushed words and gives Brian an apologetic smile, doesn´t seem to notice how Brian slowly loses touch with the world around him, everything losing it´s contour, all the colours going grey. 

“Yes, I think I understand quite well. How very, very kind of you, Freddie, really. So very selfless of you.”, Brian replies, his nails biting into the palm of his hands as they turn to fists, the pain slowly bringing him back to reality. A bitter kind of mockery is all he manages to work up. 

“Oh Brian, don´t say it like that! You make me sound like a horrible person, really…”, Freddie sighs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Well, maybe you are a ho- “, Brian starts to murmur, but then suddenly, Gustav is standing next to Freddie, wearing one of the Persian´s t-shirts and jeans, which are slightly too big on his skinny frame, hastily putting on his trainers. 

The both of them probably had been too busy fighting to notice him getting out of bed and gathering his things, getting ready to leave this war-zone they have created.

“I better get going. I´ve been here way too long already, Freddie, won´t be hogging your bed for much longer.”, Gustav says hastily but Freddie quickly places a comforting hand on the boy´s skinny upper arm. 

“Oh Schätzchen, you´re not hogging my bed at all. It was lovely having you here.”, in horror, Brian watches Freddie raise his hand and softly, tenderly stroke the boy´s smooth cheek, “Have you even a place to stay?”, Freddie asks in a worried tone. 

“Ja ja, ich geh zu einem Schulkameraden, a friend from school. He´ll take me in.”, Gustav explains with a reassuring smile, leaning into the touch for a second before his large green eyes find Brian and he almost looks a little frightened. 

“Darling, it doesn´t really feel right to let you just dash of like this, let me at least give you a little money! Now where has my wallet gone…”, he´s already in the process of looking around the hotel room to find it, but then Gustav stops him in his tracks, gently placing both of his slim hands on the singer´s shoulders. 

“Freddie no, du musst mir kein Geld geben, wirklich. Ich komme schon klar!* Don´t worry, okay?“, he says and gives Freddie a boyishly charming smile, brushing a few strands of thick blonde hair out of his eyes. 

“Alright then, if you say so, Herzchen…”, the singer sighs with a quick nod, “Well, take care, dear. Call me if you need anything. There´s always a place for you with me, you know that, right?”  
He places two quick kisses on each of the boy´s cheeks and Gustav flushes under Brian´s confused and quite frankly, angry gaze. 

“Yes, I know. Danke Freddie, du bist so lieb zu mir. “*, the boy goes in for one last kiss, this time landing on the corner of Freddie´s mouth, right where Brian usually likes to kiss Freddie when they´re both sleepy and satisfied after being intimate, because he loves the way Freddie´s moustache tickles. 

„Of course, darling. I´ll see you around, yes Liebchen?”, Freddie simply replies, worried, like a mother hen.

“Bis bald, Freddie. Bis bald! “, Gustav says quickly and then slinks out of the door and down the hallway, not even acknowledging Brian´s presence because apparently, he really urgently needs to get away. 

“That was odd…”, Freddie murmurs, while he watches Gustav disappear behind a corner and then his eyes find Brian again, “Well, do come in, darling. No use in standing around in the hallway any longer.”, he murmurs and even though Brian´s is tempted to simply refuse and to tell Freddie that he can, quite frankly, sod off, he gives a small hum and then comes inside. 

There´s a morbid curiosity to his action, a self-hating need to see for himself the traces the boy has left inside the room. The rumpled sheets where he has slept, slept in Freddie´s arms, possibly slept with Freddie, his smell still lingering to the fine, soft cotton. 

The room is a mess, clothes strewn everywhere but at least Brian sees no traces of drug abuse or alcohol around, which does relieve him a slight bit. 

“Oh darling, stop sulking, will you? It´s ridiculous, there´s no need to be jealous.”, Freddie suddenly says, sitting down on the bed and grabbing a small nail file from the nightstand, legs crossed, exposing that he is probably naked but for his underwear under his dressing gown. 

“This is not about me, Freddie.”, Brian says sharply and walks over to the window to open it. The air inside of the room is warm and dry with the air from the radiator and the cold winter air serves as a welcome sensation when it hits Brian´s tense face. 

Freddie gives him a dramatically raised eyebrow while still filing away at the nail of his ring finger, before inspecting it for any chips in the clear nail polish he likes to wear on his nails. 

“And who is it about then, if you´d be so kind as to inform me, dearest?”, Freddie asks, sounding so innocently clueless that Brian feels anger boiling hotly in the pit of his stomach. 

“Well, Gustav of course!”, Brian hisses and Freddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, putting the nail file back on the nightstand to grab some of the expensive hand lotion next to it, which he opens, to massage some of the flowery smelling product into his hands. 

“So you are jealous! I knew I was right!”

Brian tries to push down the feeling of anger, but the way Freddie lounges around on the bed in front of him, playing the clueless Samaritan, makes him furious. Maybe it´s also the fact that the boy had been here, here with Freddie, here in his bed, but that´s an entirely different topic, Brian decides. 

“You can´t do this to him. He´s just a boy!”, he says harshly and watches Freddie furrowed his brows, before he looks away, getting up from the bed to pick up some of the clothes littering the carpeted floor. 

“I don´t even know what you´re talking about.”, he replies in a snarky tone. 

Brian shakes his head at the singer´s stubbornness, feeling himself getting even more tense. 

“He´s in love with you, Freddie! Can´t you see that?”, he hisses and Freddie gives a bitter, joyless chuckle. He´s laying out clothes onto the rumpled sheets, putting together an outfit to wear, possibly for another night out in town, judging by the tight black leather pants and white cotton shirt he picks out. 

“Dozens…no, hundreds of people are in love with me. Doesn´t really mean anything. It´ll pass.”, he murmurs and then, even more quiet, “Always does…”

Brian watches him peel a piece of lint off the shirt to then start looking for something under the bed, pulling out his white adidas trainers after a few seconds. 

“Doesn´t change that fact that your hurting his feelings, Freddie!”, Brian says sharply, “He might think that you´re feeling the same about him…since you´re getting all cosy and snuggly with him in here.”

“No no, Gustav´s a clever boy…quite mature for his 18 years…He won´t get any silly ideas like that…”, Freddie murmurs, untangling his shoelaces and Brian feels like screaming, feels the tension, the anger rising, making his chest feel all tight. 

There it is again, the sudden need to grab Freddie by the shoulders, to shake him, to push him down on the bed and claim him, to hold him down, grab him, make him Brian´s again. Because all Brain can see and smell and feel on Freddie is Gustav. And that simply isn´t right. 

He knows that he should feel pathetic for the hatred he feels for the boy, for the way he´s young and happy, like a ray of sunshine in spring, unbothered and carefree, all thick German accent and large green puppy dog eyes. 

“You think this is fine, don´t you Fred? You really think you can just go around and…”, Brian starts to hiss, but Freddie seems eager to bring his own point across.

“Brian, what the hell are you on about? Stop behaving like a jealous idiot and tell me what´s bothering you so much?”, he says sharply, crossing his arms in front of his slim chest. 

Brian takes a deep breath, tries to remain calm, tries to push down the feelings of anger and jealousy, the overbearing fear of simply being replaced, of being nothing but a quick fuck to the other man.

Come on, Brian, be honest with him! he tells himself. Allow yourself to be vulnerable for once. Make him understand that he´s important to you. Tell him the truth!

“I´ve talked to Chrissie when I went at home.”, he starts,” I´ve told her…about us. Couldn´t keep it a secret any longer.”

Freddie just blinks slowly and looks at him, any of the surprised wonder Brian had expected to see on his face missing from his features. 

“Alright…”, he simply says and gazes at Brian as if he´s still waiting for more to come, blinking at him in a way that seems quite unimpressed. 

Brian breathes in deeply, his stomach clenching painfully with the nerves that start to show. His body is going into panic-mode, his heartbeat hammering away in his chest but then he simply goes for it, works up the courage to speak. 

“What I´m trying to say, Freddie…is that, I´d like to…”, he shakily clears his throat, watching Freddie raise his brows again. “That I´d like us to…only see each other…To…to only sleep with each other and not…other people.”

Brian cringes at the way he stumbles over the words, feels horribly awkward and the way Freddie just sighs, brows raised, looking a bit like he pitying Brian, doesn´t really help. 

“Brian darling, I don´t really think that this is a good idea.”, he simply says and Brian feels the sharp sensation of pain shooting through his chest. 

This is the worst-case-scenario, the stuff of Brian´s deepest worries and fears. It makes him feel cold and sick to the stomach, makes him want to run and take it all back. Instead, he sets eyes on the singer and lashes out in fear, harsh words of anger and hurt and of shame, for being so stupid as to believe that Freddie could ever love him like that. 

“Why?! So you can keep on shagging vulnerable little boys like Gustav?! Fuck them up like those arseholes you used to call your boyfriends did with you?! Hurt him just like you were hurt back then, Freddie?!”, he shouts and knows that he´s hit the bull in the eye when Freddie visibly flinches at his words. 

“How dare you?! It´s not like that at all! At all! Do you hear me, Brian?”, he shouts back, voice going higher at the end of the sentence, his dark eyes full of hurt. 

“Liar! You´re lying to yourself and now you´re…”, he shouts back at Freddie in blind rage, but the singer won´t have any of it. 

“I´m lying to myself?!”, he repeats Brian´s words in a bitter tone of voice, “You really should listen to yourself, Brian darling! You go home, telling the woman you have sworn to love and to cherish for all of your life about this silly little fling we´ve got going, ruining and possibly ending your relationship, hurting her like that?! Pardon my French dear, but that, quite frankly, is selfish! Selfish and utterly stupid!”

“Take that back!”, Brian´s body reacts much quicker than his mind can tell him no and so he´s grabbing Freddie by the lapel of his dressing gown. Anger and shame blind him, make him see red and all he wants to do is slap and fuck and choke those words out of Freddie. 

Because quite frankly, they are the truth and right now, there´s nothing more painful to Brian than being judged so harshly. 

“Let go of me!”, Freddie hisses, his eyes narrowed to small slits of darkness. 

“You´re telling me I´m an idiot for believing in this relationship?”, Brian asks in a quiet but sharp voice and grabs even tighter onto the material of Freddie´s dressing gown, shaking him slightly. 

“Yes, I do, Brian! You should believe in your marriage, work on the relationship with your wife. This…you and me…it´s not going to lead anywhere…”, Freddie says and Brian can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin because he´s so close now. 

“Because you suffocate any kind of connection we have built with your need to get shagged by a different guy every damn night and…”

Suddenly, he feels the sharp pain of the palm of Freddie´s hand colliding with his cheek. He gives a soft groan of surprise and for a few seconds, there´s a ringing noise echoing in his ears, before he realises that Freddie has just slapped him. 

Brian just looks at him, mouth slightly agape, hand on his cheek as if to guard the burning skin from any further pain. 

“Get out of here!”, Freddie hisses at him, shaking with agitation, pain shimmering in his large, dark eyes, “You don´t come in here, judging me for the life I lead while you´re cheating on your wife, pretending that it´s all fine and dandy because you´ve talked to her! You think we´re going to become exclusive just because you´ve had the balls to finally have a little chat with her ?...Just because you´re ready…to…”, his voice breaks and his eyes are shimmering with tears, “…to commit to this…this vague farce of a relationship that will never happen in the end…”

He angrily wipes at his eyes, lower lip trembling, brushing down the lapels of his dressing gown with shaking hands to work out the creases Brian´s grip has left on the fine silky material.  
Brian´s still standing there, frozen in shock, staring at Freddie. 

“You´re a self-righteous, demanding, cruel, cold-hearted prick, Brian May!”, he shouts at him. “All you do is hurt and destroy and take and take and take while you pity yourself!”, Freddie sounds like he´s choking on the tears that start running down his cheeks.

“I want you to leave…”, the singer now whispers, which suddenly seems to set Brian free from his stupor. 

The pain inside of the other man´s eyes is almost unbearable to him and he feels ashamed, ashamed of the cruelty in his words, ashamed of the jealousy that has led him to speak to the other man like this, ashamed of the actions that have led him to this point, that has made them become this way. 

“Freddie…”, he says softly but as he reaches out for the Persian, Freddie stumbles backwards. 

“Don´t you ever touch me again!”, the singer shouts at him and there´s something panicked and scared in his dark eyes that breaks Brian´s heart. 

“Fred, please listen to me I`m…”, Brian whispers but Freddie screams his next words at him. 

“Leave me alone, Brian! I don´t want to hear any more excuses!”, he sobs, hiccups, shakes his head, tries to breath in deeply, “Go…just go away…”, he whispers and that´s all Brian needs to hear. 

“Okay…”, Brian whispers, solely for the purpose of saying something, anything really. 

He then nods, slowly, carefully and then lowers his head, jaws set tight as he turns around and walks towards the door of the room, opening it with shaking hands and walking out into the hallway. 

His cheek is still aching from where Freddie has slapped him but it´s nothing compared to the sharp pain he feels inside of his chest. His heart is aching like a bleeding wound and all Brian wants right now is to numb it, to numb this fucking pain. 

What a selfish fool he has been, Brian thinks to himself. What a selfish, naïve, small-minded fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“Wer ist da, Freddie?” = “Who is it, Freddie?“
> 
> *“In Ordnung…” = “Okay…”
> 
> *“Freddie no, du musst mir kein Geld geben, wirklich. Ich komme schon klar!” = “Freddie, you don´t have to give me any money, I´ll be alright.”
> 
> *”(…) Danke Freddie, du bist so lieb zu mir.“ = „Thank you, Freddie. You´re so kind to me.”


	8. I Know My Mind Is Made Up, So Put Away Your Make Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings,  
> here it finally is, chapter eight. This one was super fun to write and I am so happy to finally be able to upload this baby.  
> I hope you´re all doing well and staying safe!  
> Enjoy!

“First stop will be Gothenburg on April 9th and then down to Stockholm on the 10th before we fly over to Drammen on the 12th.”, Miami explains, squinting at the calendar that he´s holding in his hands. Their manager has once again left his reading glasses somewhere around the studio and is now trying to brief them on the schedule without wearing them.

“Where the hell is Drammen?”, Roger, sitting right next to Brian, whispers. 

“Norway.”, John replies quickly and the drummer nods and then shrugs. Brian doesn´t blame him for not knowing. He long has lost count of all the cities they´ve already been to in the last decade and will go to during the upcoming tour for their new album. 

Miami continues to go over the schedule. 

“Then we´ll be in Zurich on the 16th and 17th, which should be nice and relaxed since you guys have a four day break in between…”

“Do you think we´ll be able to restock our weed supply in the meantime?”, Roger asks quietly, his face lighting up with a grin.

“Weed´s legal in Holland, not in Sweden or Norway, Rog.”, John replies with a snicker and the drummer almost looks disappointed. 

“Oh yeah right…bummer…”, he murmurs. 

“And from Zurich, we´ll go straight to France, where on the 19th, you´ll be playing in Paris and then on the 20th in Lyon.”, Miami continues, unimpressed by Roger´s commentaries and the way neither of them don´t look too enthusiastic when he goes over date after date. 

They all know what it means. Touring is hard work and they´re not getting younger. It can be exhausting, draining really, a whirlwind of sensations, emotions, of long nights and early mornings, mere hours of sleep caught on a plane before it´s off to the next venue. 

Sometimes, Brian thinks they´ve all grown out of it, grown tired of it. 

“I thought Paris was on May 3rd?”, Phoebe pipes up and Brian allows himself, for a short moment, to gaze over at him. Freddie´s personal assistant has eagerly jotted down the dates into a small pocket calendar for the past twenty minutes. 

Brian takes a deep breath, before his gaze travels further to the left and clings, for a few brief moments only, onto the singer. Freddie looks tired and disinterested, lounging in his chair, alternating between staring at the ceiling of the room and looking at his nails. 

There´s something dishevelled about him, Brian thinks. His hair, usually so neatly trimmed only by the finest barbers every fortnight, looks a bit overgrown, a slight curl to the wispy edges of it, almost as if he hadn´t bothered to style it as usually. Same goes for his beard, the edges slightly unkept, his cheeks and chin showing the dark shadow of a stubble. 

If Freddie feels Brian´s eyes on him, he doesn´t show it at all and just peeks over at Phoebe´s little calendar, pretending to be interested. 

“Yes well, we´ve got two shows for Paris, the one in April and then on May 3rd, after we came back from Dortmund.”, Miami explains, once again checking his own schedule and squinting at the paper. 

“Ah, I see.”, Phoebe hums and notes it down in the calendar, only to then look up at Freddie, who gives a nod and a slightly forced smile. Phoebe smiles back at him, genuine and reassuring and it makes Brian wonder of the singer´s personal assistant knows about everything that has happened between the two of them. 

It´s been two weeks now even though to Brian, it feels like it had been hours and years at the same time. Two weeks of Brian keeping his distance, of completely staying away, once again returning to the status quo that allows them to work together, being in each other presence without properly acknowledging it. 

It´s hard, god it´s so hard and it hurts. He tries to push away those feelings of loneliness and pain, tries to find his way back to the life he had led before Freddie and him had started seeing each other as more than friends. 

He struggles and, in the end, he gives up. Just like that. Because it´s easy and it´s convenient, the feeling of sadness so familiar, that it´s almost comforting. 

In the blink of an eye, Brian has returned to what he usually does, when he´s at his lowest. Those small, self-destructive habits creep back in, slowly intruding on every aspect of acceptance and self-love he though he had built up. 

Brian doesn´t put up a fight. When that small voice in his head whispers to him to starve himself, to stay awake at night, to drink himself unconscious, to keep spiralling into those obsessive thoughts, he follows it like a good friend´s advice. 

He doesn´t tell anyone about it. Not Chrissie, who he still talks to over the phone every night, once again pretending to be okay, and not John or Roger, who watch him with worry on their faces and fear in their eyes when they see how slim his wrists have gotten from the lack of eating and how tired he seems. 

Once again, Brian notices how he´s zoned out and doesn´t really know what Miami has been talking about for the past two minutes. It happens to him fairly often these days. 

Miami is still going over the tour dates, adding city after city, Vienna, Berlin and Edinburgh, before he moves on to Canada and North America, where they´ll be touring from late July until September, before in October, they´ll be playing their last few shows in Japan.

“And that´s us done for this year I think.”, Miami says and blinks rapidly to soothe his strained eyes, before he gives them a bright, encouraging smile. 

“Sounds good, mate. Busy year ahead of us.”, Roger says, returning their manager´s smile, “Best get on with the album. Who wants coffee before we get going?”

Brian watches him get up from his chair to go over to the small kitchen down the hallway, taking John with him. 

Tokorozawa, Phoebe writes down in neat cursive letters on November 3rd before he closes the small pocket calendar. 

“Coffee, Freddie?”

Brian watches him gently touch Freddie´s upper arm, rousing him from his disinterest state of staring into the distance. The singer gives a slight jerk, as if the sudden touch has actually startled him a little. 

“No thank you, darling. I just need a cig.”, Freddie replies and then for a brief moment, his gaze touches Brian´s. The contact feels like someone had pricked him with a sharp needle, sudden and intense, unexpected and painful. 

There´s so much pain in Freddie´s eyes but then he hides it, his head lowered as he quickly makes his way out of the room to go for a smoke. 

“Would you like some coffee, Brian?”, Phoebe asks him, giving him one his warm smiles and once again, as he had been so many times before, Brian is utterly thankful for Peter Freestone and his small, but significant acts of kindness. 

“I´d love some, Peter, thank you.”, Brian replies and they follow the others to the kitchen. 

Brian curses and puts down the comb with which he had been trying to detangle his hair for the past ten minutes. It´s no use and it´s exhausting so he simply accepts that he´ll look like a total mess tonight. 

But then, what´s new about that. 

He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. The freshly ironed button-down shirt he has put on feels like a poorly put together costume and his cheeks and chin burn from the shave he has just had.

He should be feeling good about himself tonight, freshly showered, nice shirt and an evening with his friends to look forward to. Well, an evening with Roger and John, as they had taken pity on him, asking him to join them on a night out to go to the Hofbräuhaus this Friday. 

“We won´t be in Munich for much longer. Let´s make the most of it, eh Bri?”, Roger had asked him, elbowing him in the side while they sat over their usual lunch of Bockwurst and potato salad, with just potato salad for Brian, a few days ago. 

“Maybe we should ask Fred if he wants to join in as well. Would be fun to have him around, wouldn´t it?”, John had suggested, but Roger had shot him a gaze that very clearly told him to shut up. 

Brian had almost felt sorry for their bassist, since he knows that John had only meant well, even though, at the moment, there was nothing worse he could imagine than going on a night out with Freddie, getting drunk while they silently ignored one another. 

“No Deaky, we won´t ask Fred if he wants to join us for god´s sake!”, Roger had hissed at him, “Besides, I´m pretty sure Mr. Bad Guy already has some other plans for Friday night. I say we just ditch him and go out, just the three of us.”

Brian knew that his friend had planned this intervention for days. It was getting harder and harder for him to hide his bad mental state and it was Roger´s way of trying to cheer him up by inviting him to a night out in town. 

Even the thought of having to put up a smiling face for the whole night instead of just hiding away in his bed, feels draining, but Brian knows that in order to keep his friends from worrying about him too much, he had to say yes. 

He picks up a bottle of cologne from the side of the washbasin and gently running his thumb over the glass container. It´s a German brand, a spicy but fresh smell and one of Freddie´s favourites on him. 

“God Brian…”, he remembers Freddie sighing into the crook of his neck just mere weeks ago when he had worn it for the first time. “You smell divine…I could eat you up right now…”

Putting it on now feels like a hollow act, but the pain that is caused by the memory of the zesty smell is welcome to Brian. 

He looks at himself in the mirror one last time and then gives his reflection a short nod. 

“Pull yourself together, May.”, he says, taking a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. 

There had been a life before Freddie, well, before Freddie had become his lover and Brian knows that the only way out of this is to get back to how things had been before he had lost his heart in a gamble of pride and the struggle for control. 

Brian hears them before he´s even able to see them and a sinking feeling starts manifesting in the pit of his stomach. 

God, he´s tired. Simply spending two hours with his friends, drinking beer and just chatting has drained him of all his energy and all he wants to do is go to bed, pull the covers over his head and listen to the deafening quiet of his hotel room, while he tries to recover from having to pretend to be alright for a few hours. 

He knows it´s ridiculous, knows that the evening with his friend should have recharged his social battery, should have left him feeling grateful and happy about having those two incredible men in his life. Instead, he´s just tired and feels lonely and sad. 

And now, hearing Paul and Freddie, drunkenly chatting and giggling in the hallway in front of the singer´s room is about the worst thing that could have happened. 

Before he turns around the corner that would force him to walk past the two men and towards his own room, he halts and tries to collect his wits. He needs to seem unbothered, give them a polite nod and wish them a good night while he hides away all the pain and the jealousy that will seep through every inch of his body. 

He needs to keep that small last bit of dignity and pride he has been clinging on to for the past two weeks. 

Brian takes a first, determined step towards the corner but as his eyes set on the two men, it feels like he´s frozen on the spot. 

They look like they´ve been out as well, both of them dressed in their usual party attire of tight leather pants and jackets, flimsy shirts and white trainers, almost looking like twins with their moustaches. 

They haven´t seen him yet and probably won´t, much too busy with each other to spot Brian peeking out from behind the corner in the hallway. He knows he shouldn´t be watching, but something about this doesn´t feel right. 

Freddie´s standing close to the door, probably fumbling with the keys, trying to force them into the hole, oddly hunched over as Paul has plastered himself behind him, his hands all over him, his lips practically attached to the singer´s exposed neck. 

“Paul…careful…you´re…Paul, stop…I can´t get this open when you´re…”, Freddie complains half-heartedly, chuckling softly and Brian can tell by the slur in his speech that he, once again, is drunk. 

“Come on Freddie, don´t be so shy.”, Pauls hums into Freddie´s ear, cheeks flushed with the drink he has had, hands wandering once again. 

“I´m not…Paul…stop, I mean it…”, Freddie says and tries to wiggle out of the other man´s grip. Brian´s alarm bells are ringing immediately. There´s something possessive about the way Paul grabs Freddie´s hips, something predator-like about the way he presses himself against the singer. 

“You look ravishing in those pants.”, the Irishman purrs and with growing horror, Brian watches him push his groin against Freddie´s leather-clad backside. 

Freddie´s wearing the red leather pants that Brian loves best on him, the ones he´s sometimes worn on stage and people have gone crazy about this new, seductively forbidden look. 

“Paul, stop behaving like a horny idiot.”, Freddie hisses at the man behind him and then abandons the task of opening the door. He´s not laughing anymore and there´s a look of discomfort and strain on his features. 

“Please take your hands off of me…”, he says quietly, almost weakly and Brian´s heart clenches. He´s struggling to hold himself back, struggling to keep himself from coming to Freddie´s rescue.

He´s stuck, caught between simply walking past them and paying them no mind and pushing the other man away from Freddie, from his Freddie. 

“Please take your hands off of me?!”, Paul imitates the singer´s pleading tone of voice and then just laughs, “Come on Fred, you really think you can fool me? I know what you need…I know you want those hands on you, I can tell you do.”

The words make Brian feel sick to the stomach, as he watches Paul smoothly slide a knee between Freddie´s legs. 

“This was supposed to be our little treat for the week, have you forgotten? Just you and me, some champagne, some of that lovely clean coke I´ve been saving just for us…some porn…”, Paul says in a voice as smooth as velvet while his hands disappear under Freddie´s leather jacket. 

The singer doesn´t seem too impressed with the Irishman´s proposition though. 

“Do you think I´m 13 years old?! You want bribe me into sleeping with you by promising to get me high and then let me look at some dicks, darling?! I can do that whenever I want.”, Freddie scoffs and Paul presses him against the door even tighter. 

“Oh, now we´re getting all high and mighty, eh? If you´re being a littler nicer, I´ll let you put on one of your horrendous opera records while you suck my dick. I know you´d like that.”

Brian watches Paul´s face disappear into the crook of the singer´s neck, kissing and licking at the bare skin, but Freddie now seems determined to push him away. 

“Stop being nasty like that, Paul.”, he hisses, but the Irishman just grabs him by the chin and forces him to stay in place. 

“I know you like it when I´m being nasty, Fred.”, he purrs, as his other hands wanders lower, palming Freddie through his pants, which makes the Persian groan, “You might act all innocent now, but I know you want to get on your knees so I can fuck your tight little throat, Fred.”, Paul whispers. 

“I will do no such thing, you prick! Let go off me!”, the singer shouts and struggles against the other man´s hold. 

It is at this point that Brian has seen enough. He cannot stand by and watch any longer. He has to do something. 

“Come on, Fred. Don´t be such a sissy, I´ll make it good, I´ll…”, Paul replies in a silky voice that carries an edge of annoyance but he doesn´t get to finish the sentence. 

Brian crosses the space between them in a few hasty steps and then pushes Paul off of Freddie as hard as he can. The Irishman stumbles, nearly falls and then manages to catch himself on the wall. 

“Take your dirty hands off of him!”, Brian shouts, breathing hard. Freddie´s eyes settle on him, large and dark and frightened and all Brian wants to do right now is to scoop him up in his arms and hold him tightly, keep him safe from all harm. 

“Oh, who have we got here? Our white knight, Brian fucking May!”, Paul is now steadily standing on his feat again, pretending to be completely unaffected as he grins at Brian like a wolf, who´s ready to attack at the right moment. 

“You wanna join in tonight? Didn´t think you´d be up for sharing Fred, being all possessive and positively growling at me if I so much as set eyes on him.”, the Irishman adds, his eyes gleaming as he slowly comes closer again. 

“Freddie told you to leave him be, so stay away from him!”, Brian hisses at the other man, but Paul has nothing but a tired scoff for him. His blue eyes settle on Freddie again, both brows raised in amusement. 

“Did he now? Well, then he can tell me once more, can´t he?”, he purrs, now a mere meter away from Freddie. But the singer stays silent, just stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, looking so small, so vulnerable. 

“Come on, Fred, I want to hear you say it…Tell me how you want me to leave you alone! Tell me! Say it right into my face!”, Paul hisses, coming even closer. 

A winning smile starts to manifest on his lips, as he watches the singer stand there in stunned silence. 

“I´m waiting.”, he hisses and Brian jerks forward, to keep him from coming any closer. 

“Almost makes me believe that you´re not strong enough to say it…or maybe you don´t want to…”, Paul says slowly, savouring the taste of the sly words on his tongue, “Maybe you´d rather stay with me tonight so I can give it to you nice and hard…”

“That´s enough!”, Brian roars and Freddie flinches hard, pressing his back against the wooden door behind him. 

“Shut up, Brian! This is between me and Freddie!”, Paul shouts back at him, before his attention turns back on the singer, “…Isn´t it, honey? Just you and me…just like it´s been for the past weeks whenever Brian´s gotten bored of you and ran back to his wife because he´s so afraid that people are going to think he´s a fucking poof, just like us…”, Paul says in a smooth sing-song voice that makes Brian clench his fists in anger. 

“How dare you talk to me like that, you…”, he hisses but Paul simply pretends not to hear him and continues, the piercing gaze of his blue eyes still settled on Freddie. 

“Or when he´s been hiding away in his room, crying like a whiney little shit because his life is oh so hard, didn´t he…”, a snarky smile spread on the Irishman´s lips, as his gaze returns to Brian. “Fred deserves someone better. Someone who´s there for him and who supports him.”, he says slowly. 

“And that someone isn´t you, Paul.”

Surprised, Brian looks up to find that Freddie seems to have found his voice again. 

“Look darling, I knew you were a sly little cockroach before and that´s all fine when it´s me you´re attacking with that foul chatter, but you don´t speak to Brian in this way, do you understand?”, there´s an unknown firmness to his voice, a heated glint to his eyes as he looks at the man in front of him. 

“Really Fred?! You´re picking his side?!”, Paul asks, his hands raised um in defence, “After everything we´ve been through?! After all those nights when I picked you up from the floor because you were crying about that arsehole?! Everything I have done for you!”

He´s now coming closer again, hands on Freddie´s shoulders as he pushes him. But the singer seems to be ready to pick his own fights. 

“What did you do for me then?! You supplied me with coke and LSD, you got me drunk and then you…you…you forced yourself onto me!”, Freddie shouts at him, shaking with anger and agitation and Brian can tell how incredibly painful it is for him to say those words, to finally allow himself to acknowledge what has happened to him over the past years. 

“Because you wanted me to, Freddie!”, Paul hisses and then adds, with a shimmering glint of narcistic joy, “…because you like it when I hold you down on the bed and fuck you like the needy little slut you are! Because all you want is someone to tell you that you´re beautiful and worthy of love! Because you´re so easy and weak that you´d let me do anything to you, if only I´d tell you that you´re good enough, you idiotic little fairy!”

Brian´s body reacts before his brain catches up with it. As a boy, he had never been one to get into fights on the playground, never been the one to let his firsts speak for him rather than his words.  
But listening to Paul speak such foul words about the man he loves, is where he draws the line. 

It´s a clean hit, his fist colliding with Paul´s cheekbone, knocking him to the ground where he lands like a plane that has been shot down. 

Immediately, a sharp pain shoots up Brian´s hand but God, it feels so good to finally hit that bastard in the face. 

Paul groans, holding the side of his face, struggling to sit up again. 

“Get away from here or I swear to God I´ll…”, Brian shouts at him, taking another step towards him, which makes Paul get up on his feet rather quickly, even though he´s struggling to stay upright. 

“Christ…get your god damn shit together, May…”, he hisses at Brian, his eyes gleaming with furry, “Fuck…I´m going to sue you for this…”

“Oh, piss off, Paul.”, Brian groans, still rubbing his hurting hand. 

“Fuck you…”, Paul murmurs, “…and you, Fred.”, Paul´s blue eyes shimmer wetly with shame as he looks over to Freddie, who just shrugs. 

“Ta darling, same goes to you.”, he simply replies and then Paul staggers off, around the corner and along the hallway towards the elevators, cursing softly. 

Both of them only dare to move when the doors of the elevator have closed behind the Irishman. 

Freddie is at his side within seconds, quickly taking Brian´s hand, now pulsating with pain, in his palms to look at it before his eyes, now the colour of warm, dark chocolate find Brian´s. 

“Brimi…love, are you alright?”, he asks carefully, gaze clinging to Brian´s face as he urgently tries to make out if Brian has sustained any injury himself. 

“Yeah…”, Brian murmurs and it´s only now that he notices his still quite laboured breathing. He´s shaking slightly and suddenly he´s very, very tired. 

“Come on…let´s get to my room, have a nice cuppa tea…”, Freddie says in a calm, comforting voice and places a hand on Brian´s back, guiding him towards his room, “There you go, this way…”, he murmurs softly, as he opens the door for them. 

Once they´re inside, Freddie sits him down on the unmade bed and gets started with filling the kettle in the bathroom sink, bustling around the room and chatting more to himself than to Brian, simply to keep the silence away. 

It´s almost surreal to Brian, to be back in Freddie´s room, to the usual clutter and untidiness, the mess of clothes all over the place but to Brian, this feels like the best thing he´s ever seen. Because it´s Freddie´s room, his Freddie´s room and there´s nothing better than being back in it right now. 

A little while later, Freddie appears next to him, two steaming mugs of tea in his hands, sitting down on the bed and accidentally spilling some of it onto the white sheets. 

The sudden silence between them weighs heavily, Freddie´s gaze almost shy as he looks at Brian over the rim of his mug, the tip of his tongue nervously flicking over his lower lip. 

Brian can´t help but let his gaze wander over the other man, checking for any signs of discomfort of an injury. The thought of Paul leaving something as small as a tiny bruise on Freddie´s body is making Brian furious with anger. 

“Has he hurt you?”, he can´t help but ask. 

“No…”, Freddie shakes his head and musters up a wonky smile but it´s not very convincing to Brian. 

“Are you sure?”, he keeps on asking, putting down his mug onto the carpeted floor before he inches a little closer. 

“I´m okay…Brian…”, Freddie repeats but as he seems to notice the prominent worry in the guitarist´s eyes, he puts down his mug and tenderly takes a hold of Brian´s hands, “Brimi, listen to me! I´m okay…He hasn´t hurt me…I´m okay.”, he repeats in a reassuring voice. 

His hands give Brian´s a soft squeeze and the smile on his lips turns a little brighter, front teeth peeking out from under his upper lip. 

“Thank God…”, Brian sighs, but as he intertwines his fingers with Freddie´s, craving the closeness and the contact, he feels a jolt of pain shooting up his hand and can´t help but give a small groan of discomfort. 

“Brimi, show me your hand please.”, Freddie says in a warm, gentle voice and as Brian allows him to look at his hand, he gives a soft gasp of shock as he sees the faint bruises already forming on the knuckles, “Oh my poor darling…”, he sighs and then lifts Brian´s hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto the back of it and cradling it against his cheek, which makes Brian smile. 

Brian feels an intense feeling of warmth bloom right in the centre of his chest, feels his longing, lonely heart responds to the gentle touch. He has misses Freddie for so many nights, has yearned to hold him in his arms again. 

What had happened before didn´t matter anymore. Brian didn´t care if Freddie was still seeing one or even a hundred other man. What mattered to him was that the singer was back in his life, that they were back together. 

“If he´d hurt you…I would have killed him…”, he hisses through gritted teeth, his throat suddenly feeling tight and scratchy, his eyes burning. 

Freddie blinks at him for a second, surprised at the intense emotions Brian is displaying, but then he seems to understand that the guitarist really does mean what he is saying and places a gentle hand on Brian´s cheek, softly smiling at him. 

“Almost knocking out his teeth was enough of a lesson for him, don´t you think, my darling?”, he says, his brown eyes sparkling with kindness and warmth and slowly, the frown on Brian´s face relaxed into a small smile. 

“Yeah, maybe you´re right.”, he murmurs with a small chuckle and watches Freddie´s nose scrunch up a little, as he giggles, looking adorably boyish. 

Freddie gently strokes his thumb over Brian´s cheek, the skin smooth from the shave he had had prior to going out with Roger and John. 

Brian sighs softly, leaning into the singer´s touch, Freddie´s finger now gently combing through the unruly curls on his temple. 

He knows that there are words he should say. An apology, an explanation, anything really to make Freddie understand how much it means to him to be by his side, how sorry he is for the harsh words he has spoken during their previous fight. 

As always, it´s hard for him. His lips open and he tries to speak, but the words get all tangled up in his mind as his eyes helpless gaze into Freddie´s. But the singer seems to know, seems to understand just what Brian wants to say. 

“Brian…can you just hold me please?...Just hold me tonight…”, he almost sounds shy, timid in the way he phrases the question, as if he´s a little scared that Brian might say no, might reject him. 

Brian blinks at him for a second, not really sure if he´s heard the other man correctly. But as he looks at Freddie, places his hand over the singer´s slim fingers, he comes to understand that Freddie has missed him just as much, that he has been just as lost without him. 

“Of course…of course, Fred…”, he says softly, his voice shaking slightly. 

He pulls Freddie into his arms and the Persian clings to him like he´s been drowning, his hold so tight that it knocks the wind out of Brian´s lungs. He feels his friend shaking, breathing heavily, hiding his face in the crook of Brian´s neck, so vulnerable, so small in Brian´s hold. 

“S´okay…it´s all going to be okay, baby…”, Brian whispers against Freddie´s neck and presses a soft kiss to his hairline, which makes the singer hug him even tighter. 

Slowly, the Persian´s shaking dies down, his breathing evens out and all teasing seems to leave him as he leans heavily against Brian´s. 

“I´m tired…”, he murmurs in a small voice and Brian knows that it´s time for him to take the lead, time for him to take care of Freddie, to tuck him into bed and to be there for him. 

“Me too…Let´s go to bed then…”, he says softly, pressing another kiss to Freddie´s skin, his cheek this time. 

Freddie gives a pleased little hum and then he slowly, reluctantly lets go of Brian. They don´t need to talk much after that, both of them too exhausted to care much about the slight awkwardness that comes with clumsy undressing, tiredly stumbling around the messy apartment to then get under the sheets in their underwear. 

As soon as Brian turns off the lights, Freddie snuggles up to him and god, feeling him close like this, holding him in his arms, skin on skin, feels so right, feels so good that thinking about not having Freddie causes him physical pain. 

The physical touch is incredibly grounding, incredibly comforting and Brian can´t help but keep running his hands over Freddie´s bare back, his arms, his chest, his face. It´s neither a hungry, nor a rushed kind of touch. It´s slow, gentle, adoring and he can sense that Freddie is enjoying it. 

His head comes to a rest on Brian´s shoulder and his fingertips start small patterns onto Brian´s breastbone. It makes Brian shiver with how lovely it feels, goose bumps starting to rise on his arms. 

The silence feels comfortably heavy with the notion of sleep, just the sound of their breathing in the dark. Once again, Brian tries to understand that this is real. How many times has he dreamed about this in the past weeks, has thought it to be forever lost?

Even though he´s incredibly exhausted, Brian can´t get to sleep. Holding Freddie feels much to precious to simply sleep the hours away. Freddie himself doesn´t seem to be able to fall asleep, shifting slightly every now and then, stroking his fingers over Brian´s shoulder, his collarbone. 

“I´m not sleeping with Gustav.”

The singer´s words rouse Brian from the light drowse he has been under and he quickly blinks his eyes open without properly registering the meaning of them. 

“Pardon?”, he asks, his voice hoarse with sleep. 

Freddie pushes up onto his elbows, his face now hovering above Brian´s in the dark. 

“Gustav…I´m not sleeping with him. Well, we´re not having sex with each other is what I´m trying to say.”, he explains in a hushed voice. “He stayed with me because his aunt had kicked him out…After his parents had found out that he´s a homosexual, he took refuge with his aunt and at first it seemed fine, but when she found him in bed with another man, she called the Jugendamt…some sort of social workers…so he ran away…and I gave him a place to stay and a bed to sleep in for a few days.”

Brian feels hot shame wash over him, as the singer´s words make him understand what had really happened between him and the young German. Right now, he felt like a jealous fool, cruelly lashing out against Freddie out of blind rage. 

“That’s very kind of you.”, he says softly and places a hand onto the Persian´s cheek to softly stroke the slightly stubbly skin with his thumb. 

“When I was his age…I´d have needed someone to be there for me. To have someone who cared for me…without wanting anything in return. Someone who understands what it´s like.”, Freddie adds softly and Brian nods, his heart aching, both for Gustav and for Freddie. 

The singer never really talked about the years after he had come to London, 17 years old, confused and frightened both by the strange new city he found himself in and confusing feelings of sexual attraction towards his own gender. 

Brian could only imagine how hard it must have been and it was now that he saw the connection that had built between Gustav and Freddie, due to the fact that the singer had taken him under his wing. 

“I´d never take advantage of him like that, Brian. He needed someone to look after him…just for a few days. He´s…God, he´s so young and so alone, he just needed a bit of help, someone to talk to.”, there´s an almost pained expression on Freddie´s features, as if even imagining using the boy´s misery for his own personal satisfaction is hurtful to him. 

“I know, Fred. I know I…”, he whispers, his thumb gently tracing along the Persian´s cheekbone, “I was just…I was jealous…when I saw him in your bed…”, he adds, his voice an intense whisper, his throat feeling tight. “I thought you´d replaced me with someone else, I thought…”

“Darling, don´t ever for one second think that I would replace you…”, Freddie whispers, “I could never…I would never do such a thing…”

Brian looks up into the other man´s eyes and he instantly knows that now is the time to finally say what has been on his mind, to be honest and to allow himself to be vulnerable. Because if he doesn´t tell the truth right now, it will be too late. 

“Freddie…listen…”, he starts, his gaze never leaving the singer´s warm, brown eyes, “The thing I wanted to tell you on that…the reason why I came around was to tell you that…”, he halts, takes a deep breath and then goes for it, “I´m in love with you, Freddie.”

Freddie blinks at him, seeming almost as if he doesn´t quite understand what Brian is saying, what he is trying to tell him. Then, he lowers his gaze, shaking his head and sit up. 

“Don´t…Brian please don´t…”, he says quietly, rubbing his hand over his tired eyes, his fingers shaking slightly, “You´re making this…so hard.”, he sounds choked, like he´s holding back tears. “You…you can´t play with me like that…I can´t…I can´t take it…it´s…”

“I´m not…Freddie…I´m not playing with you!”, Brian sits up as well and then takes a hold of Freddie´s hands, the singer shyly looking up at him as he feels the contact, “I´m in love with you! Do you hear me? I´m in love with you, Freddie Mercury.”, Brian repeats the words he has just spoken and god, it feels so good to say them, to finally say them. 

“It´s true…”, he adds, softer this time and Freddie looks at him his wide eyes full of fear and vulnerability. 

“Is it? Is it really?”, he asks, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Yes, it is, Freddie…”, he closes his hands around Freddie´s and then lifts them up to his lips, gently kisses each knuckle, never leaving the other man´s gaze. “It´s true…”

Freddie starts shaking, lowers his gaze. He´s struggling to keep the emotions that are threatening to overcome him under control, his head lowered but as Brian pulls him closer, he sinks against him like´s waited for it. 

He pulls Freddie into his arms, holds him close, hopes that somehow, Freddie will slowly come to trust him, trust the meaning of his words and his feelings. 

Slowly, Freddie pulls back, looking up at Brian. His eyes are shimmering wetly with tears he´s barely able to hold back. 

“Brian…oh my darling…”, he whispers and then smiles, framing Brian´s face with his hands. His lower lip is quivering, his face caught in an expression between smiling and shedding tears but then, suddenly, he leans in to kiss Brian and all doubts leave his mind. 

It feels like heaven, Freddie´s lips so sweet, every touch of them so tender and soft. The singer´s moustache tickles on his skin, but to Brian, there´s nothing that could feel better right now.  
When they break the kiss, both of them have flushed cheeks, wetly shimmering eyes and are slightly breathless with the sudden feeling of euphoric joy that has overcome them. 

Brian leans his forehead against Freddie´s, kisses him again. 

“It´s not going to be easy…”, he whispers against Freddie´s lips. 

“I know, Brimi…Besides…I don´t want easy…I want you.”, the Persian replies and as Brian gazes into the other man´s eyes, he truly and utterly feels understood, seen, loved. 

There are so many words lingering at the tip of his tongue, apologies and explanations, words that are hard to speak and ones that will slip out easily. But he takes comfort in the knowledge, that Freddie will give him the time, will give him the space that he needs, to process his thoughts and to finally speak those words. 

They both know that there are tough times ahead of them, times of fear, fear of exposure, fear of the reactions of the people around them. Times of fighting, fighting for what they have, fighting against stereotypes and also battling their own demons. 

But as Freddie holds his hand and kisses him, innocently sweet and so full of tender adoration, Brian knows that all of this, this man in front of him, is worth fighting for. And that´s all that matters to him right now.


	9. Roxanne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings,   
> here it is, the very last chapter of this story. Since this is pure fluff, it has been lovely writing it and has taken my mind off the general anxiety that I´ve been struggling with. For me, the new semester at my uni has started and it´s been hard to adjust to online school, more work and assignments.   
> I hope you´re all doing well! Thank you so much for each and every kudos and comment! They never fail to cheer me up! Thank you guys so much!  
> Hope you enjoy!

//April 1982, the night before their first concert of the “Hot Space” Tour//

“I love this song.”, Freddie says with a grin on his face and starts bopping his head in tune with the characteristic guitar riff of the song that begins to play from the bar´s speakers. 

Brian can´t help but smile back at him, before he takes another sip of his gin tonic. The drink is strong and ice cold, just the way Brian likes it and as he looks around the small, dimly lit room, he decides that after all, being in his first ever gay bar isn´t as frightening and intimidating as he thought it would be. 

It´s not much different from any other bar, except for the huge rainbow flag hung up on he wall opposite their table and the fact that, despite the dark, slightly run-down leather-man theme of the place, people generally seem to be quite friendly. 

Their first stop of the tour, Gothenburg, seems to have a lot more to offer than Brian would have thought and even though their flight to the Swedish town had been horrendously stressful, with their travels being delayed by a snow storm, Brian now is quite happy to be getting the tour started on the following night. 

“Roxanne…you don´t have to put on the red light…”, Roger mouths the words to the song, taking another drag of his cigarette and then playing the rhythm of the drums on the table top with his fingers. 

Deaky gives him an amused little glance as Freddie starts to get closer to Brian, mischievously grinning at him as he sways his hips and places both his hands on the guitarist´s shoulders. 

Usually, they´re careful with the display of affection when in public, but with this being a gay bar, Brian isn´t too worried when Freddie leans in and places a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Care for a little boogie?”, the Persian asks with a twinkle in his eyes, his smile having turned almost cat like as he stays close to Brian, who chuckles softly. 

“Freddie…you know I can´t dance…”, he sighs, looping his arms around the singer´s slim waist, smiling down at him. 

“Oh come on, Bri, don´t be such a bore, leaving your poor boyfriend hanging like this…”, Roger pipes up with a grin, always ready to tease Brian a bit or come to Freddie´s aid. 

Brian finds it quite amusing to think about how worried they had been a few months ago, wrecking their brains for a way to tell their friend about the blossoming romance that has developed between them. For hours they had sat together in bed, going over all the possible outcomes of the conversation, from total support to absolute rejection. 

In the end, no such conversation had been needed because they had simply given themselves away in in an unaware moment of affection, Brian planting a quick kiss onto Freddie´s lips at the studio´s kitchen after the singer had handed him a cup of tea. 

“Thanks babe.”, he had said softly and Freddie had lingered close, smiling against his lips to go in for another kiss, wouldn´t it have been for the fact that Brian had seen Roger and John out of the corner of his eye, standing in the doorway, looking at them. Their drummer had sported a huge shit-eating grin while John had smiled at them with content kindness in his eyes. 

“Oh…em…this is…it´s not…”, Brian had stammered while Freddie had blushed crimson red, but Roger had simply rolled his eyes at them. 

“Oh come off it, mate! You guys really aren´t as discreet as you think, you know?”, Roger had said. 

“We´re just glad you´re not giving each other the silent treatment anymore.”, Deaky had piped up with a big smile on his face and from that moment on, Brian had known that they had their friends support, come what may. 

There had been no lectures about how this could ruin the band, about how they needed to be careful for the press not to find out about this. Roger and John simply had stood by their side, happy for them, ready to come to their rescue whenever a curious photographer came to close. 

“Alright old man, then you´ll just have to watch…”, Freddie purrs and winks at him, “Come on Roggie, let´s get another gin tonic, I´m not yet tipsy enough.”

“After you, darling.”, Roger says with a grin, imitating a posh accent and then they saunter off to the bar, all silly giggles, still swaying to the beat of the song.

A smile sneaks onto his lips as Brian watches the two men goof about, laughing so loudly that some people turn their heads at them, before they both notice and quickly turn quiet, still giggling. 

Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor, still the adventurous, wild boys they had been over a decade ago when they had been roommates, running their little stall of clothes at Kensington Market. 

“It´s good.”

John´s nasal accent wakes Brian from his thoughts and he looks over to the bassist, raising his eyebrows and smiling at him. 

“Sorry, I was miles away, didn´t hear you.”

“That´s alright, Bri.”, John smiles at him, “I said it´s good…You and Fred. It´s a good thing that you´ve…managed to sort things out. You seem much happier…the both of you.”

“Thank you, John…Means a lot…”

Brian smiles at him, grateful for the other man´s kind words, even though they bring a smidge of melancholy with them. In the past three months, many things have changed, all for the better, but still, the changes have been painful and some hard decisions have been made, the hardest one of them all, being the end of his marriage with Chrissie.

“Of course, man.”, John replies with a little nod. “How are things going with the children?”

Brian can´t help but smile at the question. It is one of the things he loves so much about their bassist. John knows what it´s like, struggling to balance family life with young kids and their musical career.

Of course, Roger is a father too and a damn good one as well, but there´s something relaxed, something comforting and wholesome talking about family with John, the way he just understands and Brian wouldn´t miss it for the world. 

“Well…I moved out of the house just a few days before we flew out to Gothenburg…got my own place now, somewhat close to Stafford Terrace, so Fred´s not far but it still won´t be suspicious to the press. All they know is that Chrissie and I are getting a divorce.”

Brian notices how he´s trying to put off talking about his ex-wife´s and children´s reaction. 

“You know, of course Chrissie and I had planned it before, spoken about it a great deal, made sure she was alright with it all…”, Brian feels a shiver running down his spine when he thinks about those weeks leading up to the move. 

Those sleepless nights, those conversations he had to have with Chrissie, those hard truths they had had to admit to. Because the built-up to the end of their relationship had been coming, creeping up on them slowly. Having another baby hadn´t been able to fix their marriage and when they finally admitted to this, had come to terms with it and the ways they had let each other down over the years, they had been able to find closure. 

“I think I´m bisexual.”, Brian had finally been able to tell her after years of running from it and now finally admitting to it, and “I still love you, but it´s a different kind of love than before.”   
And when those words had been spoken, things had finally fallen into place. 

“Of course, it was hard when I left…for Jason at least, Louisa is still too small to understand.”, Brian finally manages to explain, “But we´re making it work. I´m coming over ever Sunday for a roast, we´re cooking it together, I spent time with the children whenever I can. I think Jason´s been struggling a bit, but he´ll be alright.”

“That sounds lovely, Bri. Sounds like you´re both making the right decisions to keep your children happy and safe.”, John says with a genuine smile, but there´s something that´s still weighing on Brian´s mind. 

“Sometimes I´m…worried though…I don´t want to let my kids down, you know…I can´t…I can´t let them down…”, says quietly, John leaning in a little to understand what he´s saying. “I don´t want them to feel like I´ve abandoned them…They need to know that I´ll always be there for them…that they can count on me…”

“And they do know, Brian.”, John says calmly, intently looking into his eyes, “Trust me, they do. You´re a fantastic dad. And they know that you´ll always be there.”

“Yes…yes…I…”, Brian stammers, already feeling his head going into overdrive. 

“Brian…believe me, okay? You´re doing fine.”, John says, “It´s all going to be fine.”

John looks at him, reassurance and comforting kindness in his green eyes and then his smile turns a little brighter. 

“Have you introduced them to Fred yet?”

Brian raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Deaky, they know who Freddie is, they both met him. Jason´s favourite thing to do when he sees Fred is jump up into his arms and demand cuddles before he starts pulling on his moustache just for fun.”

He can´t help but smirk as he thinks about this last time his son had seen the singer. Uncle Freddie is quite popular with the band´s children, kind, surprisingly patient and never too serious, always ready to joke about, never complaining when one of them breaks something at the flat or, in Jason´s case, pulls on his moustache. 

He watches a smile spread onto John´s lips. 

“Yeah yeah, that´s quite funny to watch but what I´m talking about is…Have they met him as your boyfriend? Your new partner, so to speak?”, he asks and Brian frowns. 

“No…”, he says slowly, still caught up in his thoughts. 

“Well, think about it.”, John says and takes a sip of his beer. 

“John, I can´t just…”, Brian protests, but the bassist just smiles at him.

“Not right away. When you´re ready, of course. When you´re both ready.”, he says in a warm tone and Brian nods slowly. 

He knows that it will take a while, a lot of work on his behalf and of course, a conversation with Freddie as well as Chrissie. But there is a part of him, still hidden, still small, but there still, that dreams of a future, a future that Freddie himself had once talked about when they had lain in bed together, them growing together as a family, the children coming to accept Freddie as their father´s new partner. 

Right now, it´s still a dream, but one day, he wants it to be their reality. 

“Hullo, who wants some gin tonic?”, Roger laughs into Brian´s ear, holding a drink in each hand, Freddie squeezing through to their table right behind him, also holding two drinks. 

The singer trips and almost spills some of the contains of the glasses onto the table, but Brian quickly takes one of the beverages from his hands and places a steadying arm around the Persian´s waist.   
“Freddie darling, careful…”, Brian says quickly and watches the singer giggle and blush, murmuring a quiet, “Sorry honey…”

“Really Freddie darling, be careful!”, Roger teases, lightly elbowing Freddie in the ribs. 

“Shut up, Rog!”, Freddie elbows him back, a little harder than necessary and they both spill some more of their drinks onto the table. 

“I´m just joking. You guys are cute, don´t listen to me.”, Roger laughs and catches Brian´s gaze, giving him a little wink. 

They stay at the bar for another hour, but then Deaky has to go back to the hotel to give his wife a call, saying that it´s the only time they ever get away from the kids nowadays, blushing a little, which results in a lot of shoulder clapping from Roger and an understanding nod, followed by a grin from Freddie.

So John goes straight back to the hotel once they´re outside on the streets. 

“Christ, it´s freezing.”, Roger complains, as they aimlessly walk through the streets. It´s about 9pm and it´s gone dark by now. Even though it´s April already, nights in Sweden still seem to be frosty, spring not yet having warmed up the air. 

The lights of the city look lovely in the dark and the wind smells of the nearby sea, as they get closer to the harbour. Some seagulls are screaming from afar and the wind picks up a little. 

Freddie´s cold fingertips keep brushing against Brian´s when they walk and he can´t stop smiling, even though it hurts his cheeks in the cold. 

They watch the ships go by for a while, the lights reflecting on the surface of the water, listen to the gentle waves lapping at the walls of the canal and observe the seagulls flying along the dark night sky like pale ghosts, but after a while, Roger gets too cold and heads back to the hotel as well. 

“Are you cold, baby?”, Brian asks Freddie as he sees his boyfriend suppress a shiver. Of course, Freddie´s only wearing a thin leather jacket, which he now has zipped up against the cold wind.   
“Just a little…”, the Persian admits, slyly smiling up at Brian. 

Brian gives a little sigh, still smiling, but as he watches Freddie huddle closer towards him, seeking warmth, an idea starts to manifest in his head. 

“Come here, love…”, he murmurs and then quickly unzips the large, knee-length winter coat he is wearing, pulling Freddie closer, until, with a little bit of finger gymnastics, he manages to close the coat again, now engulfing Freddie as well. 

Freddie giggles like an excited child, shaking his head, but his arms quickly loop around Brian´s waist and he seems quite content, sharing Brian´s coat like this.

“That´s better, isn´t it?”, Brian asks and because it´s dark and nobody can see them, he rubs the tip of his nose against Freddie´s, which feels quite cold. 

“Very toasty, my darling.”, Freddie chuckles and then leans in for a clumsy kiss. 

Brian smiles against his lips, tasting the fizz of the drinks they had had previously and the chapstick Freddie keeps applying religiously in the cold weather. Freddie hums softly as Brian pulls him closer, as he deepens the kiss. 

They had spent these past three months being practically inseparable, but still, there is a little spark to every kiss they share, to every smile Brian can see on the singer´s lips. 

Practically living together, sharing Freddie´s hotel room, Brian´s things slowly migrating over there until his own room was basically empty, had come with its own ups and downs. 

There had been moments of pure bliss, nights of passion, both of them relishing in the feeling of not having to rush anymore, of being able to take their time, of enjoying pleasure, exploring the depths of their physical love. Brian had come to experience heights that had before been unknown to him, remembers moments of breath-taking ecstasy, Freddie´s body a wonderland, making him experience things so profoundly different that the experience almost felt religious. 

He had learned things about himself as well. About trusting, about letting go, giving up control and falling into the pits of the scary unknown, only to come back up a little stronger, a little more whole.   
Being physical with the singer is healing to him, validates what he´s been feeling, has been desiring for so long. 

But there are days and nights much different from these as well. Times when they bicker, when Freddie´s irritable with the effects of withdrawal from the substances he had previously consumes so copiously. There are mornings when Brian´s brain feels heavy, when he´s tired and weak and he can´t speak, when all he wants to do is sleep the day away. 

He shouts at Freddie when he brings him food and water, tries to coax him out of bed, tries to make him feel better, wants him to go away, to leave him be in his misery. Brian knows that it´s not fair, that he shouldn´t act this way. But he can´t help it, can´t help the way his mind is wired just as much as Freddie can´t help himself when he comes back to the hotel room late at night, reeking of booze, a white powdery substance coating his dark moustache. 

Sometimes they scream at each other until they´re both hoarse, sometimes Freddie is cruel and cold and sometimes Brian´s passive and silent and for a few hours, it feels like hell. Because something in Brian´s chest aches when Freddie´s gone, when they go at each other like this. 

But eventually, they come back to each other, slowly inching closer like frightened children, until one of them makes the first step and they cling to one another, whispering breathless apologies against each other´s lips, admitting to the toxic traits they need to work on as Brian kisses the tears from Freddie´s cheeks and they hold each tight until their fight feels like nothing more than a bad dream. 

They still got a long way to go, a path of healing in front of them. Brian´s got his mind set on going to therapy once they´re done with touring and Freddie tries to drink less and now stays away from the cocaine. It´s not perfect, but it´s the way they live, the way they live together, have grown closer. 

It´s their life and it´s a good one. 

As Freddie pulls back from the kiss, Brian finds his way back to reality. 

For a beat, he silently looks up into Brian´s eyes, almost as if he´s contemplating something and then he whispers those words into the cold of the night, his breath a white fog ghosting over Brian´s cheeks.

“Love you…”

Warmth blossoms in Brian´s chest, his heartrate picks up and he feels heat travel towards his face, as a smile starts to bloom on his lips. 

“What was that?”, he asks softly and watches Freddie lower his gaze, blushing. He suddenly seems so shy, so nervous. 

“Baby…”, Brian says tenderly, “Please…say it again…”

Freddie´s gaze finds his once more and he blinks hastily, taking a deep breath before he speaks again.

“I…I love you…”, he says, speaking clearly now, his eyes glues to Brian´s face to catch even the smallest of changes in his facial expression, “I love you, Brian.”

Brian leans in and places a careful kiss onto the singer´s lips, feeling the tension melt under the contact. 

“I love you too, Freddie.”, he says and pulls back a little, so Freddie can see his smile, “God, I love you so much.”

The singer´s smile turns a little shaky, upper lips pulled over his front teeth, lashes fluttering as he gives a soft, relieved little laugh that sounds sweet and airy to Brian´s ears and that makes his heart sing with happiness. 

Freddie seems to need a moment to collect himself but as he looks up at Brian, there´s so much happiness in his brown eyes, a content kind of joy as he smiles at him. 

“You´re all I need, Brian. You´re all I want.”, Freddie says softly and the words hit Brian right in the heart. 

Never before has he felt more wanted, more loved and accepted. And as he stands there, sharing a coat with Freddie Mercury, he realises that everything he´s been searching for for so many years, had always been right there. 

“You´re my home, Freddie.”, Brian says, says it very quietly but means it, means every word and Freddie smiles at him and kisses his cheek, kisses the sudden wetness away that has started to trickle down below Brian´s eye.

“And you´re mine.”, the singer replies and right now, that´s all Brian needs to hear, as the cold wind of the chilly April night pulls on the coat they are sharing while the stars in the clear night sky above them twinkle peacefully.


End file.
